


Never Give Up. Never Surrender.

by fandomvision



Series: Let the White Flags Burn [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl has some issues, Daryl's PoV, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Rick doesn't mind, SPOILERS! for season 04, background Bob/Sasha, background Maggie/Glenn, background Michonne/Tara (it snuck up on me), beware the potential for a Donner Party post-Z-day!, potentially background Beth/OMC, semi-slow build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 91,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomvision/pseuds/fandomvision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl and Beth find themselves falling into an excellent situation, one that gives them hope for finding the rest of their family and finally finding a little bit of solace in this crazy ass, apocalyptic world. Daryl's convinced that if they can just find Rick, finding the rest of their family will be easy as pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: I’m a bit of a Prepper myself, so a lot of this is based off my own research, plans and knowledge. I apologize for any inaccuracies, but as far as I know, everything I've written is at least plausible. On a side note, this picks up the day after episode 04x12 'Still' and moves forward along my own storyline. I may or may not incorporate bits and pieces of canon from the show or the comic as I go, but I'll try to warn you guys if there are spoilers.
> 
> Side Note: I'm a complete and total nerd, so there are going to be a ton of nerdy references to other fandoms and the like in this story. I am not sorry. lol

"Fuck."

 

Hunkered down behind a beat up, torn up, piece of shit car with Beth trembling like a leaf behind him, and a group of five armed men in front of him, trying to coax them out, Daryl Dixon couldn't think of a better word to express his feelings on their current situation. Beth's hand was clenched tight in the tails of the button up he wore beneath his biker vest. The girl had her pistol out, but she only had maybe one or two shots left. He had three bolts, and then they were done.

 

"Look, man," the apparent leader of the group of men called out. "We don't want no trouble. Just give us the girl and your crossbow, and you can be on your way."

 

Beth's fingers tightened on his shirt tails, and the tiniest of terrified sounds escaped her. They were pinned down with very little hope of escape, and he wasn't stupid enough to believe they'd just let him walk away once they had what they wanted. Like hell he'd hand Beth over like that anyway. Think of him what the rest of the world would, Beth was as close to a little sister as he'd ever be likely to get and family was the _only_ thing that mattered. They were out of options. Well, maybe one of them at least could get out of this. Glancing to his right, Beth immediately looking up at him, Daryl took in her terrified face. Voice low, he told her, "When I say run, you best do it."

 

"Daryl, no." Blue-grey eyes widened pleadingly, and Daryl had to look away. "I'm not leaving without you."

 

"I'll catch up. Bet these assholes can't track worth a damn."

 

"They'll kill you-"

 

Both of them jumped, weapons automatically coming up, when absolute chaos erupted behind them on the other side of the car. The sound of gun fire, a body hitting the ground, the men barking at each other all blending into a maelstrom of sound. From the sounds of it, the assholes didn't know where to return fire. Daryl risked a peek over the hood of the car. Two of the men were down and unmoving. The other three were turning wildly, pointing out into the woods around the small building – a gas station he and Beth had stepped in hoping for something to eat or drink and had stumbled across these assholes instead – on the other side of the road and looking for the source of the attack. Another went down, though the shot was less than clean this time, hitting the guy in the side of his neck instead of the skull. The remaining two started to fire in the direction the shots had to be coming from, and Daryl decided right then and there that he was taking at least one of the fuckers down himself. The bolt went clean into an ear canal and the son of a bitch slumped, knocking into his companion on his way down. A breath later, the last of the men went down with him, the back of his skull a cavernous, gooey hole.

 

A calm settled over the scene, the only sound that of the man with the neck wound gurgling as he died slowly. He'd need to be put down for good soon, but for the moment, Daryl didn't dare move. Whoever had taken out the assholes might not be a friend. As if reading his mind, Beth tugged on his shirt. "Daryl, we should go."

 

Part of him wanted to see the new enemy, to know what they might face someday in the future, but the rest of him just wanted to get Beth to safety. She was all he had now. The only family left to him. Nodding slowly, he risked one last peek over the car and then nudged her, urging her to quietly make her way toward the woods on their side of the road. They'd gotten to the tail-lights when a voice called out to them.

 

"You can come out now."

 

Beth froze in front of him, and Daryl cursed softly. His temper was close to the boiling point. Beth looked over her shoulder. Through sloppy bangs and days of dirt he could see that she looked uncertain and scared and hopeful all at once. Daryl pursed his lips together. The voice was male but younger, and Daryl figured he could probably take him. They needed more fire power, and those assholes had seemed to have plenty. The question was: was this new person alone or baiting a trap of some kind?

 

"Look, I'm not going t' cause any trouble. I figured, if you came out, you'd be able t' take some of the weapons. I've got a first aid kit with me. Are either of you hurt?"

 

Beth gave Daryl her most serious look, licked her lips and asked in a voice so soft he could barely hear her even with how close they were, "What do we do?"

 

He huffed through his nose. Of course, she would consider making god damned friends with him. Motioning for Beth to stay where she was, Daryl crept back toward the front of the car and peered around the headlight and bumper. Standing in the middle of the road, with a hunting rifle held casually in the crook of his arm and a pistol at each hip, stood a young man who couldn't have been much older than Beth herself. Fucking great. He looked clean and calm, confident that the threat was handled. The kid wasn't overly tall, wasn't overly broad, but he looked able-bodied in his boots, blue jeans and open button up. The white shirt underneath was a little bloodied and a bit dirty. Now that Daryl was focusing on more than the kid's visible weapons and basic appearance, he could see the jeans were spotted with blood as well. Even so, he looked like he'd only been out hunting for a day not like he'd been out surviving in a damned apocalypse.

 

"Alright," the kid said, voice suddenly breaking the silence again. "No problem. I'm gonna grab a few things from these guys and leave the rest for you."

 

The kid turned from them. He'd been staring off into the woods beyond the car until he'd turned away never looking directly at the vehicle. Now he moved over to the scattered bodies. The hunting rifle was laid to the side though still within easy reach as the kid knelt beside the slowly reanimating corpse of the asshole with the neck wound. The kid pulled a buck knife from the far side of his body and pressed it into the Walker's skull with skilled swiftness. The blade was wiped off tidily on the dispatched Walker's shirt and resheathed with practiced efficiency. He hadn't even had to look to replace the knife in its sheath. Immediately, the kid began rifling through pockets and clothes, pulling out knives, ammo and anything else that might be useful. Daryl's eyes drifted about the area, but it seemed that the kid had stepped out of the woods on the opposite side of the road where Daryl really couldn't get a good look. Still, so far it seemed like he was alone.

 

Movement out of the corner of his eye, far too close for comfort, made Daryl jump. The grab he made for Beth's belt fell just short. With a muttered curse, he hurried to his feet to follow her with his crossbow aimed and ready. The sound of their feet on the asphalt brought the kid's attention around to them from the AR-15 he'd just pulled the magazine from. The only indication that the kid wasn't a complete idiot was the slight tensing of his shoulders. At least he wasn't some dumb fuck with a rose-colored view of the world.

 

"Hi," the kid offered and spun a little to face them. It didn't escape Daryl's notice that he didn't get up from his crouch right away. Considerate of him to maintain a non-aggressive position.

 

"You alone?" Daryl asked, voice low and dangerous.

 

The kid lowered the magazine to the chest of the dead guy next to him and laid the rifle itself on the pavement. Both of his hands came up in the universal "I mean no harm" gesture, and he slowly got to his feet. "Yep. It's just me. You, uh, looked like you were in a bit of a spot."

 

And before Daryl could snarl out "I had it," Beth was saying, "Thank you." The words were a bit rushed, and Daryl cast her a suspicious look. She still had her pistol out, but she'd lowered it. "I mean, you could've just walked away."

 

The kid shook his head, and the corner of his mouth crooked up in a half smirk that made Daryl briefly consider slugging him and running off with all his weapons. It took him a minute to realize the feelings were protectiveness of Beth and not the kid actually doing anything worthy of the thought. He seemed innocent enough, though innocent when he'd just taken out four of five enemies was a relative thing. The kid dropped his hands, hooking his thumbs into the front of his waist band. "No. I couldn't have."

 

"You got a place around here?" Daryl wasn't ready to trust this kid yet, his crossbow stayed up, aimed and ready to fire, but there was no way this kid could look this well put together and not have a place that offered protection, food and a place to clean up. Daryl needed to – he had to – get Beth to a place where she would be safe so that he could go back out and look for the rest of their group. So he could look for Judith and Carl and…Rick. The burning sting behind his eyes wasn't catching him off guard so much anymore, but he still had to squint hard to get it to stop. He hated the way his vision blurred. Rick Grimes was a tough mother fucker. Tougher than Merle had ever been. Daryl just had to find him, and the rest of the group would be easy enough to round up.

 

"It's a ways but yeah. Look, my name is Jason Adler. I know it's a pretty shitty world out here these days, an' it's really difficult t' figure out who t' trust. Honestly, no offense, but if it wasn't for her, I'da shot those guys an' left." The kid rubbed at the back of his neck then shrugged. "But, it's also really hard t' make it alone out here. I'm all that's left an' t' be honest, I could use some company. Extra hands, y'know? I'd like to… extend an invitation. If y'like what you see and we can get along, you're welcome t' stay."

 

"There are more of us," Beth blurted, and her hands worked the grip of her pistol. She shifted nervously from foot to foot when Jason's bright brown eyes fell on her. Daryl sighed through his nose again and lowered the crossbow minutely while Beth continued. The girl wasn't gonna let it go, but then it was probably best that most of the cards went onto the table. Truthfully, Daryl knew they didn't have a whole lot of options at this point. "I mean, there might be. We got separated a few days ago when our home was attacked. We don't know if anyone besides us made it out, but there might be more of us."

 

Daryl looked back at the kid. Jason studied Beth for a minute then looked to Daryl briefly before turning his attention back to the woods beside the gas station. A soft, two note whistle left his lips, and Daryl's heart leapt into his throat. The crossbow was snug against his shoulder and trained on the kid's temple between one breath and the next. At this distance there was no chance in hell that he would miss. To his credit, Jason didn't so much as flinch. "I thought you said you was alone!"

 

Beth edged closer to Daryl, pistol up and aimed in the direction Jason was looking.

 

"I am," Jason confirmed and pointed. Ambling out of the woods was probably one of the biggest horses Daryl had ever seen aside from the draft horses at the county fairs he and Merle used to hit up for some drunken entertainment. Where those horses had been beefy and broad, this beast was tall and just plain big boned. A second later the animal had come to a stop in front of them. Jason reached out and patted the beast's shiny orange neck. "This is Striker. And that's Dundee."

 

Daryl had been so distracted by the horse that he hadn't even noticed the dog. It was one of those herding critters with the blue-grey coat, black mask and the white spot on its forehead. Slowly, he lowered the crossbow as Beth, almost giddy with relief, shoved her pistol into her back pocket and squatted down. Show a girl a pet or baby and they turned to fucking mush. Daryl wiped at his nose with the back of his hand to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

 

"You have pets!" The dog came forward and leaned in without hesitation for Beth to pet him.

 

Daryl glanced up when Jason said, "I like to think of them as my partners in crime, but you can look at them like that if you want."

 

Beth grinned up at him, happier than Daryl had seen her in probably months.

 

"We should get going. All that shootin's gonna bring Walkers." He hadn't survived this long by letting his guard down, and he was getting antsy. Daryl just hoped that this kid was legitimate. From the glance Jason threw his way, Daryl would bet he hadn't said anything the kid wasn't already thinking which was something in the kid's favor. The red neck watched as Jason stooped and picked up his hunting rifle. He checked that the safety was on so casually it was clearly second nature and then slid it into the holster attached to the horse's saddle all in what seemed like one smooth motion. Then he turned and started gathering the rest of the weapons and useful things from the bodies again. Daryl surveyed the area warily, on guard and itching to get away before a herd passed through.

 

Once all of the loot was in a pile, Jason stood and made his way to the back of the horse. Nimble fingers pulled the leather ties holding the saddlebags free of the back of the saddle, and Daryl watched intermittent to scanning their surroundings as the kid methodically unloaded each weapon and stored the ammo, magazines and guns in one of the bags. The last pistol, a Sig Sauer nine millimeter, he reloaded and handed to Beth who had been equally watchful of their surroundings to that point. She flushed a little and took the pistol, handing over her small revolver. He dumped the ammo and put it into the bag without question. The AR-15 he reloaded as well, checked it over one last time, and then handed it to Daryl who wasted no time in quickly slinging the thing over his shoulder. The kid looked satisfied as he turned back to the remaining pile.

 

"Either of you want any of their clothes or footwear?"

 

Daryl glanced at Beth, who shook her head at him. "No," Daryl answered. "Let's jus' get the hell outta here."

 

Jason nodded and tossed the lighters, matches and knives into the other bag before belting them both closed. Once the saddlebags were secured to the back of the saddle again, he turned to Beth. "Up you go."

 

"I couldn't," Beth started to protest, but Daryl could tell she wanted nothing more than to get up on that horse. It'd been such a long time since they'd lost the Greene Farm. Horses were something this girl considered home. So, he nudged her gently with his elbow and nodded when she shut her mouth and glanced back at him. Blushing, probably embarrassed that she'd been read so easily, Beth dropped her gaze and murmured, "Thank you."

 

For a split second, Jason looked like he was going to move in and help her up, but, as Beth stepped toward the stirrup, he fell back. The kid was observant. Jason's eyes took in the way Beth snagged both the horse's reins and mane, lifted her foot, and hauled herself up into the saddle as smooth as silk just like she was born to it, and Daryl knew they'd gained another level of respect from guy in that moment. The stirrups were too long, but Beth obviously didn't care. The grin on her face could have lit up the night sky, and she cooed to and patted the horse with an obvious familiarity.

 

"Dun. Point." Jason's voice drew Daryl's attention, and he watched the kid snap and point out toward the road. The dog immediately moved out ahead of them, head low and ears turning. "He'll let us know if there are…Walkers, you called them?" Daryl nodded and the kid nodded in return. "It was surprisingly easy t' transfer his trainin' from cows and goats t' Walker patrol. Turns out dogs with brains don't like the undead much."

 

Daryl hummed in acknowledgment and adjusted his grip on his crossbow. As one they moved forward, the horse keeping pace with them easy as breathing. A surprisingly comfortable silence fell over them, but only lasted a few miles. Beth wasn't one for silence.

 

"So, what were you doin' out here, Jason?"

 

The kid glanced back at her and smiled. "I was scouting. Thought I'd grab some supplies, see what the undead population was like now from the last time I'd been out. Honestly, I was really bored at home an' just needed a change a scenery."

 

"We were tryin' t' find our group," Beth told him and looked off into the woods they'd come out of. "And tryin' not t' die."

 

A less comfortable more sad silence descended then, and it followed them for another mile before Jason spoke again. "After we get you guys settled… cleaned up, rested… We'll head back over t' the prison an' see if we can't find anyone."

 

Daryl stopped in his tracks, hackles up. "We never said nothin' 'bout no prison."

 

Jason stopped and after a step or two the horse stopped too. Daryl stared the kid down behind the horse's ass, but Jason only shrugged. "I knew there was a group of survivors makin' it there. I'd been by a few times on runs and hunts, never close enough t' make out more than figures of people that weren't shambling corpses. I went by it yesterday an' saw the mess."

 

"Well, ain't you jus' full o' surprises," Daryl snapped and turned, walking briskly past the horse's head and on down the road. He'd never seen the trails the kid had to have left behind. There'd been enough Walkers moving about that it wasn't surprising, but the knowledge still stung. He hadn't noticed the kid, what else had he missed? In what other ways had he failed his people, useless white trash that he was most of the time, that had ultimately ended in the Governor's success?

 

"He's still hurting," Beth soothed as she nudged Striker forward, falling into step with Jason again. Daryl chose to ignore her. He'd snapped at her enough over the last few days. She didn't deserve it. "We both lost everything. Maybe even everyone."

 

"I understand," was their new companion's only response. The silence this time was sad and a little tight.

 

It was nightfall by the time they reached the first safeguard of Jason's home. Tension fence made in barbed wire stretched across the dirt road they'd been walking for most of dusk. From what Daryl could see it stretched far in both directions mostly using the trees as fence posts. Aside from the road it was four strands high, the topmost wire stretching just over Daryl's head. Jason moved forward as Dundee slipped under the bottom strand and grasped the spring handles of the two strands that made the "gate," pulling them free of their loops and moving them to the side so that Daryl and Striker could pass through. The rattle of the metal and plastic being reconnected was loud in the quiet forest.

 

"We're almost there," Jason assured them and moved out in front of them again. Beth smiled at Daryl when he looked at her, looking sleepy, but content. Honestly, Daryl had lost a little of his wary edge after a half a day's travel without incident. He was tired. Exhausted, really, and while he'd never admit it, it was nice to have one more able-bodied person with them. It wasn't the able-bodied person he wanted, but he was probably the only one feeling that discrepancy quite so fiercely. Beth could take care of herself, but…he'd worried a lot about her the last few days just the same. She was clearly adrift without Maggie, but he doubted that she felt Maggie's absence as acutely as he felt…Rick's.

 

The next safeguard was a medieval pike fence just like what they'd had back at the prison gates. Daryl silently stepped in to help as Jason pulled a smaller section free of its bindings and out of the way so that the horse could pass through. Together they re-secured the section into place, and then climbed through themselves. When they finally reached the fence that surrounded Jason's home, they all breathed a sigh of relief. Beth swung down out of the saddle and pulled the reins over the horse's head. Dundee sat panting patiently at the small gate off to the right of the large one. The fence itself was made of pike-like logs, reminiscent of the old settlers' fort walls.

 

Unlocking the padlocks that kept the gate secured while he was away, Jason pocketed all three of them and pulled open the gate. It swung on silent hinges, and he gestured the small group through. "Welcome to my humble home."

 

Just inside the gate, Beth and Daryl stopped in their tracks and just stared. Behind them, they heard Jason putting the padlocks on the gate from this side, but it was impossible to look away from the moonlit sight before them. The gates opened onto a dirt parking lot. It was edged in meadow grass to the left that also edged a short stone walkway up to a classic looking two story farm house with a cozy wraparound porch. Grazing idly on the grass in that front yard were several goats. Directly in front of them at the far edge of the large dirt lot and looming like a great hulking mountain was a barn, rough in the way that old built farm buildings often were. Striker let out a cheerful whinny and was answered from somewhere beyond the barn by several answering horse calls. This greeting seemed to set off a cacophony of animal greetings: the hungry low of cattle, the eager bleating of goats, and a couple of barks from the direction of the house. To their right appeared to be a fenced in vegetable garden, bushy with growth.

 

"Go on inside," Jason murmured, breaking the spell of awe as he took the reins from Beth. "Make yourselves at home. I've got chores t' do before I head in."

 

"We can help," Beth immediately protested.

 

Daryl, for one second, thought the kid would refuse. Instead, he just smiled and nodded, saying, "I'd appreciate it. I know you're tired. I am too, but more hands make lighter work around this place. Plus, I expect you'll be pulling your weight, and the sooner y'know what's what, the easier it'll be. You two don't look like the type t' mooch."

 

"We aren't, and I grew up on a farm, so you jus' tell me what t' do an' it'll get done. Daryl's a fast learner." Beth's assurance was firm. Daryl nodded. Never in his life had he thought he'd be standing right smack in the middle of a little piece of heaven. Even the Greene Farm had been less than ideal, with so much tension and open space. It'd made a man twitchy. This farm felt snug like home and secure like a fortress.

 

"How'd y'come int' this place?" Daryl couldn't help but ask as they followed Jason to the barn doors. They opened easily, swinging out on well-oiled hinges. Once inside, he and Beth froze. It was pitch black inside and every nerve was on fire with their inability to see. The sound of a striking match preceded the lighting of a hanging lantern, and the interior of the barn was cast in a soft, shadowy glow. The entryway of the dirt floored barn was open until a quarter of the way in where stalls picked up on either side. The ones on the left were narrow and open with low walls. The ones on the right were big closed in boxes. It made Daryl wonder just how many animals this kid was managing to take care of. To the right of the doors were big plastic bins and to the left was a free standing bench. Beyond the bench were stairs that presumably led to the loft above them.

 

"It's been in my family for three generations. My grandparents and my parents worked tirelessly t' secure us a place in the world. At the time, a lot of people laughed, callin'em Preppers like it was a bad thing. Called them apocalypse fanatics, too, but …honestly, who's laughin' now?" Jason shook his head. "This is a homestead. We're completely self-sufficient here. Solar panels _and_ wind energy run the house. A wood burning stove keeps the place warm in winter. The horses are our transportation, and it's them that pull the wagons, the hay-bine and the baler. It takes special equipment, but it's well worth the trouble of findin' parts. Hell, I doubt I'll have t' look anyway because Dad was smart an' stocked up quite a bit on the things he knew wouldn't be readily available. What the horses can't do, we've done by hand."

 

"This is amazin'," Beth murmured. Daryl just shook his head unable to voice the tumult of emotions running through him. If they'd found this place while the group had been looking before they'd found the prison…

 

"But it's hard t' maintain single-handed, so you guys were a stroke o' luck. Or fate maybe. Who knows anymore. Point is, it looked like you needed me as much I definitely needed you." Jason was smiling right back at her, equally excited by the prospect of them as they were by the prospect of him and everything he had to offer.

 

"What happened to the rest o' yer…y'know, group?" He knew his voice was husky. It was hard to ask a question that would probably be difficult to answer. Hell, he didn't ever want to have to talk about the prison ever, ever again. What was Jason's story?

 

"Old age."

 

Daryl started. He couldn't have heard right. That didn't happen anymore…did it? "What?"

 

Jason turned back to Striker and began removing his bridle. Daryl hadn't even noticed he'd already picked up a halter to replace it while he'd been moving the horse to the start of the stalls. Jason moved around Striker with smooth, efficient motions securing him in cross ties and pulling off the saddlebags and the rifle in its holster first and laying them on the bench before removing the saddle. He dumped the tack on the floor and grabbed something up off the shelf beneath the bench. A brush from the look of it. It wasn't until he was brushing the horse down that he finally elaborated. "My grandparents passed away a year before the world went crazy. They went one right after the other. Grandpa died in his sleep first then grandma died of a heart attack a couple months later. My mom's folks. Dad's parents were in Florida. I’m sure they're not alive now. Mom and Dad were older when they had me. My older sister Helen was already grown and gone, getting ready to start workin' on a family of her own. I haven't heard from her since she emailed me t' tell us that she was tryin' to evacuate from Atlanta. I'm pretty sure she didn't make it out. Her husband was kind of an idiot. Once the world went down, gettin' the medicine that was keepin' my folks alive was difficult. Eventually, they succumbed t' their age. Dad went first, a heart attack like grandma. Mom…well, she was mostly okay for a bit, but I think not havin' Dad around did her in. She had a seizure completely outta the blue. Probably had t' do with her diabetes."

 

The sound of his hand patting Striker's neck was loud in the dimly lit barn.

 

"I'm sorry," Beth said, sounding as genuine as she always did. She was a very compassionate person. Daryl said nothing. Even if he'd wanted to offer the kid something, he wouldn't have known what to say.

 

"I’m not," Jason responded his voice soft. "They got t' grow old. Maybe their deaths weren't peaceful like my grandpa's, but at least they didn't die violently like so many people have in the last couple years."

 

Daryl took in the slight wince from Jason when he realized what he'd said, but before the kid could start another round of apologizing, Daryl cut in. "Let's get this done. I'm fuckin' hungry."

 

It took them what amounted to about another hour and a half to get all of the animals taken care of. It took a helluva lot less time than Daryl had thought it would. Saddlebags over his shoulder and rifle in his other hand, Jason led them up to the house at last. Dundee was already sitting at the front door, waiting to be let in.

 

"I can't believe this is real," Beth murmured as they followed Jason through the door. The house was clean and orderly with a bookshelf lined room immediately to the left of the foyer, stairs to the second story right there in the entrance and what looked like a dining room down a short hall past the stairs. They were greeted by two more dogs trotting down that hallway, tails wagging. One was a sleek black German Shepherd. The other was a tall, yellow lab.

 

"The Shepherd's name is Riversong. The Lab's is Winchester." Jason sounded happy as he greeted each dog with a rub to the tops of their heads. The Lab, barely pausing for his master's greeting, made a bee-line for Daryl, eager to say hello and sniff at the red neck's legs. Daryl shifted back, uncertain of the dog's intentions. The Shepherd just sat down by Jason and watched them with curiously intelligent eyes. Beth immediately started scratching at the Lab's back with both hands. The dog glanced back at her, wagged his tail a little harder, then promptly returned to sniffing up a storm on Daryl's pant legs. Tentatively, he reached down and stroked the dogs head. Its tail wagged faster, shaking its whole body.

 

"How are you getting food for them?" Beth asked in awe. It'd been so long since either of them had seen a home happy enough for pets, but it showed more plainly on her face.

 

"We have a pantry you wouldn't believe without seeing it for yourself. Canned goods both from the store and from our garden, a few pallets of pet food, non-perishable boxed foods… uhm, MREs, plus whatever we hunt up or slaughter outta the yard. I'm addin' to it all the time with runs int' the surrounding towns and villages." Jason shrugged and draped the saddlebags over the banister of the stairs. "I didn't want t' pry before, but you haven't told me your name?"

 

Beth's face colored a bright red, and she fluttered her hands over her mouth. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! I'm Beth. Beth Greene, an' this is Daryl Dixon. I can't believe…we didn't mean t' be so rude!"

 

Jason chuckled and snapped his fingers. "It's fine. Winchester! Leave the poor man alone."

 

The dog turned happily enough and trotted over to Jason who grabbed both of the dog's ears and rubbed. The dog looked like he was in bliss. After a minute, Jason looked back up, all smiles. "Well, Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon, if you'd like there's a shower in both bathrooms with your names on'em. I can take your clothes an' have them washed an' dried for tomorrow. In the meantime, I can scrounge up changes for you both while you're bathin'."

 

"You have runnin' water in this place?" Daryl couldn't help the note of skepticism in his voice.

 

"One better. _Hot_ , runnin' water."

 

Daryl met Beth's gaze and, for the first time in what felt like too long, he grinned right back at her.

 

 

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: From this moment forward, I'm going to be working with what little I know from researching The Sanctuary (ie - Terminus) on 'The Walking Dead Wiki.' Some of the following material WILL be spoilers and some of it will be creative license on my part. If you don't like spoilers, please do not read on.
> 
> Nerd References Thus Far:  
> \- 'Never give up. Never surrender.' is the slogan from the Tim Allen film 'Galaxy Quest'  
> \- Dundee being an Australian Cattle Dog I named him after Mick Dundee from the 90s movie series 'Crocodile Dundee'  
> \- Jason and his sister Helen are named after Jason from the Argonauts and Helen of Troy  
> \- Jason also matches nicely with his horse's name for a reference to Jason Striker from the X-men movies  
> \- The surname Adler is a tip of the hat to the wily Irene Adler from BBC's Sherlock  
> \- Striker is named for the Jaeger Striker Eureka from the movie 'Pacific Rim'  
> \- Riversong the German Shepherd is named after The Doctor's wife from 'Doctor Who' (new Who, of course)  
> \- Winchester the Labrador is named in a tip of the hat to both the firearms company AND the Winchester brothers from the TV series 'Supernatural'

It had been way too long since the last time they'd been clean on a civilized level. Jason had left a couple of boxes of clothes for each of them just inside the bathroom doors and a little digging had gotten them comfortably dressed. The smell of dinner brought them into the kitchen after that. Burgers sizzled in frying pans and corn on the cob boiled away in a pot on one of the back burners while the other back burner heated some canned peas. Jason greeted them with a nod and a smile. "Sorry I don't have any buns. Not much of a baker myself."

 

"I can bake," Beth offered, settling at the table. Then her eyes caught on the sweating can by her plate on the table. "Is this really cold soda?"

 

"The solar panels an' windmills – when they're runnin' – fill batteries that run the whole house as if we were hooked int' a power grid. I have a couple backup generators if somethin' breaks down, but I try not t' use them unless it's absolutely necessary. They're loud an' fuel is a limited resource. But yeah. It's really cold soda. Are you a beer drinker, Daryl? There's some bottles o' home brewed stuff in the fridge."

 

"Shit yeah." Daryl was up and in the fridge in the blink of an eye, rooting around even after he pulled out the bottle and popped the clasp-seal top open. He'd have said it was the best damn beer of his life anyway, just because it was the first cold one he'd had since the world had gone to shit, but if he were honest, it was pretty good on its own merit too. Beth giggled as she snapped open the can of soda, and Daryl threw her a long slow look, appreciating her enjoyment for a moment before turning back to the contents of the fridge. He pushed aside a glass jar of butter and popped open a carton of eggs just to see them. It was a little overwhelming. "Never thought I'd be seein' one o' these again."

 

"The fridge?" Jason smiled and flipped the burgers. "Yeah. It's a luxury I’m grateful for every day. Dad debated for a long time before hookin' it int' the alternate power lines. It uses a bit more power than we wanted t' load for, but we all agreed it would be worth it t' accommodate with a few extra batteries. We're actually not too far from a little rural town, so we had city power 'til it went down. We had satellite television an' internet, too. It wasn't like we lived in the dark ages, but Dad an' Mom believed in bein' able t' make it without if it ever came t' that."

 

"Thank god fer that," Daryl grunted and finally closed the door, coming back to the table with a second beer. His first was almost gone already. He grinned at Beth, and they clinked their drinks in a silent cheers. Jason was just smiling away at them over by the stove, his feet surrounded by lounging canines. It was actually kinda peaceful.

 

"I should warn you," Jason began after a minute of silence and another flip of the burgers. "There are a couple house cats in here somewhere. You're strangers, so it'll take them a while t' come out. They have their claws just so y'know. Mousers."

 

Beth's grin was enormous. "I really jus' can't get over alla this. It's like…like none of it ever happened."

 

Daryl frowned, hiding it behind the mouth of his beer bottle. This place _was_ amazing. Hershel would have probably called it a godsend or something, but then, the prison had seemed like that at the time too. Unable to stop himself, he muttered, "Don't get too comfortable."

 

Blue-grey eyes dropped to the table, and Beth shifted uncomfortably. Jason glanced over his shoulder and let out a small sigh as he clicked off the stove's burners. "Nothin's one hundred percent perfect. Here, it's not really the Walkers y'have t' worry about so much as the other survivors. But you two already know how that works. Look, let's eat in the livin' room. I think we can spare the energy for a movie."

 

And Beth's face lit up like the sun again. "A movie!?"

 

"Yeah. Not much of a selection yet, but I try t' pick up a few every time I make a run to add to the collection. You guys help yourselves, an' I'll go get everythin' set up."

 

Once Jason had stepped out of the room, the dogs on his heels, Daryl got up from the table. Beth beat him to the stove top and began setting up her plate with glee. "I can't wait t' find the others! They're not gonna know what t' think about this place! Judith will get t' watch cartoons!"

 

It was like a punch to his heart. Ever the optimist, Beth began to hum as she moved to the fridge and pulled out another can of soda. It wasn't until she'd shut the door that she noticed Daryl hadn't moved. "Daryl?"

 

"Do y'really think anyone made it outta that shit storm? I mean…really believe that." He sounded completely wrecked, and he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes only glancing at her through the corner of his vision. She was staring at him with wide, almost innocent eyes.

 

"We did. Our people are strong, Daryl. Look at everythin' we've made it through so far. At least some o' them had to've made it." Blond head tipped to the side, Beth watched him with what he could only assume was tenderness creeping into her eyes. She'd seen him lose it once just a day ago, crying like a little child who'd lost him mama. All because he couldn't believe that any of the people they cared about could have possibly made it out of the prison alive. Because _Rick_ …Daryl froze that thought, shying away from the ache it provoked, and brought a hand up to press calloused fingerpads into his eyes to stop the annoying burning sensation. After a few moments, Daryl nodded with a new feeling of determination stealing over him. Maybe there was a chance.

 

"Let's eat," was all he could bring himself to say, and then he was diving into plating up the meal with vigor.

 

Jason passed them in the doorway to the living room, giving them a smile as he went to get his own dinner. Once he'd joined them in the living room, Daryl lifted the remote from his end of the couch and gave it a good long look. Jason glanced over from the other end, and Beth tucked her feet up onto the seat of the reclining chair she had claimed before Daryl could, her eyes on him.

 

"Feels weird," he commented before pressing play. Beth grinned as the sounds of an animated lamp bouncing on the "I" of the word Pixar poured out of the surround sound set up and promptly dug into her dinner. Daryl shook his head and started shoving food into his mouth using his fork as a shovel.

 

All in all, watching Up was both heart-wrenching and up lifting. Daryl couldn't believe he'd actually enjoyed watching a kid's movie, but it'd been nice to lose himself in someone else's troubles for a little while. Jason had gotten up partway through the movie, taking their dirty dinnerware and going to clean up the kitchen and feed the house pets. His return had heralded a whole new level of excitement as he'd handed each of them their own bowl of ice cream, saying with a small note of pride, "It's only vanilla, but I made it myself. Had a cow freshen last month but lost the calf. Thought this was better than lettin' the excess milk go t' waste. Made some butter an' cheese, too."

 

"Shit yeah it was," Daryl softly exclaimed in his usual mellow way and, to Beth's obvious surprise, ate the ice cream as slowly as he could without letting most of it melt. She and Jason ate theirs just as slowly though so Daryl felt no real shame in enjoying the treat. After the movie had ended, Beth took it upon herself to take the bowls into the kitchen to clean them. Jason set about shutting down the entertainment system so that it wouldn't be any more of a drain on their power supply, and then he and Daryl followed Beth into the kitchen again.

 

"The bedrooms're upstairs. Mine is the one directly across from the top. There are three others up there t' choose from. You're welcome t' take your pick."

 

"Thanks, man." Daryl pushed off from his lean against the island counter and patted Beth's shoulder before he made his way out into the hall, heading for the stairs. The tap turned off a moment later, and he heard Beth murmur good night to their host before her steps started to follow him down the hall and up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, they paused and looked at one another. "See ya in the mornin'," Daryl offered. Beth beamed at him.

 

"Tomorrow we find our family," she vowed and then turned to follow the landing to its end at the front of the house. She slipped through the door and closed it quietly behind her. Satisfied that she was secure as could be for the night, Daryl turned to the room directly to the left of the top of the stair and closed the door behind him once he was inside. It was an hour before Jason came up the stairs, boots tapping softly on the wood floor occasionally muffled by runners. His door closed with a click, there were the rustlings of someone getting ready for bed, and then there was silence.

 

Alone in the dark, Daryl threw an arm over his head on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. It felt wrong to be safe and secure here while the ones he loved more than anything probably struggled and ached with pain, discomfort and hunger in the wilderness. He reminded himself again that Rick Grimes was a tough son of a bitch and that there was no amount of a pansy ass beating from some dickhead with a god complex that was gonna take him out. He hadn't dubbed Judith 'Lil Asskicker' just because he thought it was funny. It was, in fact, incredibly fitting given who her father was. And Carl…that boy was tough as nails just like his pa. He was certain Michonne was still out there. That bitch – and he meant that in the most affectionate way – was a survivor on levels he hadn't even come to know yet. It was Maggie and Glenn that he worried about most. Certainly, there were others, but of the remainder of his core group, of the ones that had been with him for the longest, he knew that Glenn had still been _so_ sick. And he knew that Maggie wouldn't have left him behind for anything.

 

Turning onto his side, he pushed thoughts of Maggie and Glenn aside and closed his eyes. The burning sensation behind his lids returned as an image of Rick, kneeling and smiling in greeting at him over a row of heartily growing cabbage heads, swam into focus in his mind's eye. He'd never gotten to say…well, he wasn't much of a talker, but Rick understood that. Daryl was hopeful that Rick had understood all the things Daryl didn't know how to say.

 

But if they found him…No. _When_ they found him, Daryl would be sure to at least try to make certain that he and Rick were on the same damn page. It was a long time before he finally drifted off to sleep, his mind too full and his heart just a little bit too empty.

 

The crowing of a rooster roused Daryl from a sound sleep. At first he was disoriented, but the happenings of the previous day slowly filtered through the haze of sleep as he rubbed at his eyes. They were dry and sore. Some significant length of time passed in a sleepy daze before there was a knock at the door, but the lost time didn't really bother him. It was nice to finally have a little calm to drowse in. "Yeah?" he croaked and cleared his throat.

 

"Sorry t' bother you," came Jason's polite response. "But the sooner we get the day goin', the sooner we can get out there t' look for your friends."

 

"There are pancakes downstairs. We wanted t' let you sleep a while longer," Beth put in.

 

"What time is it?" Daryl pushed himself into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and ran his fingers through his too long hair.

 

"About eight," Jason answered. "Beth and I are gonna get the chores done and saddle up the horses. I already put together travel bags and some weapons on the kitchen table while Beth made breakfast. Bring 'em out with ya when ya head t' the barn, would ya? We'll be good t' leave as soon as you're ready and the chores are done."

 

"Yeah. I'm up," Daryl told them and reached for the jeans he'd discarded on the ground before crawling into bed. "I'll be out t' help with the animals after I grab some grub."

 

"Good," Beth said and then Daryl heard two sets of feet trotting down the stairs. It was a strange feeling, knowing that he didn't have to worry about Walkers or being hungry. Pulling on his pants, shirt, jacket and vest, Daryl reached for his crossbow and blinked. He'd left it by the door in the foyer with the AR-15 had he? Letting out a soft curse, he shoved his socked feet in his boots and headed out of the room and down the stairs. Neither the Strykezone nor the rifle were anywhere to be seen in the foyer, even though he knew he'd left them there. The kid didn't fucking know not to touch Daryl's baby, but that didn't make Daryl any more okay with it. Storming into the kitchen, he grabbed the glass of orange juice Beth had left out for him and turned to lean back against the island. His crossbow sat on the kitchen table just like Jason had said and it was surrounded by a variety of other weapons including the AR-15. Right next to a brand new over the shoulder quiver of bolts. The packed up saddlebags were draped over the seats of three of the chairs, bulging in a way that even their best runs didn't amount to before. Daryl moved slowly to the table and ran his fingers over one of the new shafts.

 

Just who had they moved in with that the kid had an apparent arsenal at his disposal?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

 

Jason reattached the lower tension strand and straightened, turning to look at them. Daryl assumed it was to assess that they were indeed ready to go. Dundee's wagging tail thumped against the kid's leg, and he leaned down to rub the top of the dog's head. "Point," he ordered and pointed down the road. Dundee trotted off without hesitation. Once he was in Striker's saddle again, Jason started explaining the game plan. "We'll head over to some of the rail road tracks near the prison. Don't want to get too close with all the Walkers that are gonna be there."

 

"We should probably search the railroad line. Our people might be followin' it to find shelter," Beth suggested. Daryl wasn't happy that she was out here again, but no amount of arguing had swayed her to staying behind, so he just bit his tongue on the urge to suggest she stay one more time and nodded.

 

"It's open," Daryl agreed. "They'd want t' see the Walkers comin'."

 

"You two really think they'd stick t' the tracks?"

 

Daryl turned a sharp eye on the young man riding on the other side of Beth. Romeo, the grey gelding he currently sat on, stopped a moment to shake himself, forcing Daryl to grit his teeth and grab the horn of the saddle until it was over. The horse then eagerly moved at a brisk walk to catch up. "Yeah."

 

"Then they're headed for The Sanctuary." Jason sounded almost grim.

 

Beth asked the obvious question. "What's The Sanctuary?"

 

"It's a factory a group o' thugs secured not long after the first outbreak. Dad and I steered clear of'em as much as we could. They're cultists of sorts, ruthless like the Aztecs. Once you're in, it's damn near impossible t' get out. Knew one guy that did. Met him on a run int' town with my dad. The horror stories he had to tell…"

 

Jason shook his head, and Daryl and Beth shared a look that spoke volumes in silence. They had to find their people and fast.

 

"Then we best get a move on," Daryl declared after a moment and urged Romeo into a canter. Gypsy, Beth's brown horse, fell into step easily, but Striker moved out ahead of them. Dundee looked over his shoulder once, then fell into an easy lope alongside his master's horse.

 

They made great time, following Jason, Striker and Dundee. The few Walkers they passed barely had time to react to their presence before they were too far away to be bothered with. Horses were relatively quiet, went places most motor vehicles couldn't, and, if it weren't for their potential to spook, Daryl would have said they were the only way to travel post-apocalypse. They hit the railroad track a little after what had to be about one o'clock and stopped the horses. They'd walked the last couple miles to cool their mounts down at Jason's instruction. Beth had agreed it was best, so Daryl didn't press to continue on at the pace they'd kept for most of the trip so far. Dundee cast around the red dirt, nose to the ground while Jason looked both ways.

 

"Prison should be that way not too far," the younger man stated and gestured to their right. "I don't think anyone with any sense o' self-preservation would have stayed this close."

 

Beth nudged Gypsy forward, stopping her in the middle of the tracks. "Lizzie?! Mika?! Carl?!"

 

Everyone fell silent and waited. After a few minutes, Daryl called out the same names as Beth explained that they were calling for children, those who might not know to get farther away while they could. It had only been a few days since the prison had fallen, so it was plausible that they were nearby. Dundee had disappeared a moment ago, so while Daryl and Beth called out to their people, Jason kept an eye and ear on the brush off the side of the tracks that his dog had wandered into. He needn't have worried. Dundee reappeared with something white in his mouth moments later, catching the attention of all three humans. Jason slipped to the ground, and Dundee dutifully relinquished his find. "A baby diaper?"

 

Daryl's heart seized, and he slid to the ground as fast as he could. His eyes flew to Beth for just a moment, and he couldn't stop himself for the soft exclamation of, "Judith!"

 

Beth dismounted and took Romeo's reins as Daryl began to cast about for tracks. Jason watched in keen interest. Daryl could feel the kid's eyes on the back of his neck. Beth's voice got a little clearer as she raised her chin and proudly stated, "Never met a better tracker than Daryl Dixon. You can bet on it."

 

Jason flashed her a bright smile that could be heard in his voice. "Great! Because I'm honestly not so great at it."

 

"How'd your dog know t' bring you that diaper?" Beth asked and Daryl flicked a glance behind him equally curious. Jason took a moment to hand signal Dundee to stay before tossing the diaper off into the woods again. The dog stared fixedly after it, but didn't move. Daryl went back to examining the red dirt for trail signs.

 

Jason's answer was fond. "Cattle dogs are really smart and intuitive. I couldn't tell you for sure if he knew it was somethin' important, or if he was just hopin' I'd let him eat what was in it, but either way, he knew he had to bring it to me first."

 

Beth wrinkled her nose and made a grossed out noise at the thought of the dog wanting to eat baby poop, but she didn't get to actually comment because Daryl started moving off down the tracks to their left, crossbow at the ready. "This way. C'mon!"

 

Like a bloodhound on the scent, Daryl moved them along at a decent clip. They passed a pile of dispatched Walkers and it took Daryl a little time to relocate the trail, but it wasn't long before they reached a posting for The Sanctuary. Daryl cast them both an ominous look. "There's four sets o' tracks. Big guy, a woman or small man an' two kids. Trail's only two t' three days old at most. How long d'ya think it'll take them t' reach this place on foot?"

 

Jason considered the question. "If they've got a baby an' kids with them, an' they make frequent stops t' rest an' hunt or scavenge, accounting for delays for hiding or killin' Walkers…four or five days. Maybe."

 

"And on horseback? How long y'think it'll take us?" Daryl prodded.

 

Jason shrugged. "Easily half that."

 

There was a chance then that they'd get to these people in time. Daryl felt his heart clench with hope and said, "Well, let's hope they're ours an' let's get a move on."

 

Jason swung back up into Striker's saddle. "I'm gonna scout ahead a bit with Dundee. I'll stay within ear shot. It wouldn't be a bad idea t' keep calling out names. We're armed enough t' handle a decent sized group of Walkers and we've got speedy getaway rides if we have t' split. Makin' a little more noise won't hurt too much."

 

Swinging back into Gypsy's saddle, Beth kept her fist tight around Romeo's reins and nodded. "Okay."

 

Jason moved on passed Daryl, urging Striker into a fast walk. Behind them, Beth began to call out a variety of names, while Daryl moved along following whatever trail he could find. Gypsy and Romeo plodded sedately along behind Daryl.

 

Hours later, well into late afternoon or early evening, having dispatched no less than twenty Walkers with their knives and Daryl's crossbow in equal measure, they stopped. Daryl had lifted a hand, and Beth and Jason – who had dropped back with the group after the first two hours – pulled their mounts up short. They'd been silent for about an hour now, tired of calling out. Now, they were glad they'd given it up. The distinct sound of something coming at them through the underbrush was easily heard in their silence. If they'd still been calling out, they'd have missed it entirely. The noises stopped after a few minutes and each of them brought a weapon up, aiming in the direction the sounds had been coming from. Jason whispered as sharp, "Dun. Stay!" but no other sound was made.

 

A choked sob came from the woods, and then with a cry of relief in the form of Beth's name, a brunette in a purple shirt came tumbling out of the cover of growth at the edge of the tracks. She was so filthy and haggard looking it took Daryl a moment to recognize Maggie. Two other figures tumbled out after her, a black woman and a black man. Honestly, Daryl was relieved to see Sasha and Bob, but the fact that Glenn wasn't with them made his stomach knot. Jason lowered his gun when Daryl surged forward to meet them, and Beth flew out of the saddle repeating the name Maggie over and over again as she threw herself into the brunette's arms.

 

"I went back fer you, you stupid girl," Maggie was saying. "I couldn't leave without you, but you were gone!"

 

Daryl accepted the hug from Sasha and exchanged a firm handshake with Bob before looking at the Greene sisters again.

 

"I went back for the kids," Beth was telling her, crying. "I wanted t' get them on the bus, but I couldn't find them, and the bus took off without all of us. Daryl got me out."

 

"Thank you," Maggie's eyes fell on Daryl her tone fiercely grateful as she hugged her sister tight to her chest.

 

"Where's Glenn?" Daryl opted to ask rather than acknowledge the gratitude, uncomfortable enough with Maggie's intensity that he'd rather ask the dreaded question than deal with overly thankful people. Anyway, he had to know who they were looking for and who they would be mourning later. Maggie's face crumpled. Swearing, Daryl kicked hard at a rock near his foot, sending it into the woods. The action was in no way satisfying to his anger and disappointment.

 

"I don' know." Maggie was clearly just barely hanging on. "He wasn't on the bus. He wasn't one of the Walkers we found in the bus."

 

"Who's that?" Sasha asked into the tense silence that followed the revelation that while Glenn might still be alive, most of the Woodbury refugees were not. Sasha clarified by nodding to Jason with a suspicious look on her face. Apparently most of the prison group was familiar enough with Daryl's habits, and Sasha had probably wanted to quell any larger displays of temper. She'd been right. He'd been about to throw something.

 

"He's cool," Daryl said immediately, and Jason took that as his cue to introduce himself.

 

"Name's Jason. Came across Daryl and Beth in a spot of trouble yesterday, and Dundee here," he nodded to the dog panting by his heel. "Took a shine t'em. They told me about what happened, and here we are. You're the first people we've found."

 

"Bob. And this is Sasha. Obviously that's Maggie. Beth's sister." Bob nodded, looking winded and weak.

 

Jason slid to the ground and went to the saddlebags attached to Gypsy's saddle, pulling out the first aid kit he'd put there that morning. "Here." He offered the first aid kit, and Sasha took it without hesitation. "It's fully loaded, so y'should be able t' fix Bob here up like new."

 

"Thanks," the dark woman murmured and turned to Bob who sank to the ground with obvious stiffness.

 

"No problem." Jason nodded and looked over to where Beth and Maggie were touching each other's faces and talking quietly. Even Daryl had to admit it was touching to see them so engrossed in each other. So happy to see each other again. Sadly, they didn't have a lot of time to spare.

 

Daryl went over to stand beside Jason, eyes scanning their surroundings. "We should press on while there's still daylight."

 

Jason glanced his way and nodded before allowing his gaze to wander their surroundings. "Soon as they're all ready. There's some bottled water, beef jerky and dried fruit in one of Romeo's saddle bags. I put enough for two weeks survival in everybody's left saddle bag, along with extra ammo an' a second pistol. The right bags all have first aid kits an' extra rations for any survivors we might be findin'."

 

Daryl nodded and without another word made his way over to Romeo. Minutes later he was handing out rations and water bottles to the three survivors. Daryl's eyes flicked over and down from watching Maggie scarfing down the dried food when Dundee got suddenly to his feet. A low growl was all the warning Jason seemed to need to urge them along. "Sorry t' rush you guys, but we should get movin'. Dun's picked up somethin' he doesn't like."

 

As if to emphasize his words, Gypsy and Romeo brought their heads up, ears twitching to and fro. Striker started to shift from hoof to hoof beside the kid and Jason moved to check his horse's girth strap. "Bob, I think you should ride. Gypsy's a steady girl, Maggie an' Beth can both hop up. Sasha, why don't you take a load off an' put that first aid kit in with the other one in Romeo's bags. Daryl an' I will stay low. Just in case."

 

"How old are you, kid?" Sasha asked, something like disbelief in her tone even as she helped Bob up into Striker's saddle.

 

Jason glanced down at Dundee again as the dog let out a louder growl and looked up at him with a few small whines. "Twenty-one. Let's get goin'. Dun, short point."

 

The newcomers watched as the dog moved out ahead of them again though he didn't travel nearly so far as Beth and Daryl had seen before. Maggie and Beth made it onto Gypsy's back in short order, Beth settling behind the bedroll strapped snuggly into the curve of the back of each saddle. It was only a moment more before Sasha was on Romeo, and the group was able to move on down the tracks again. Beth pulled the extra pistol out of the bag under her left leg and handed it and an extra magazine to Maggie. Seeing the exchange, Sasha and Bob pulled out the extra pistols from their bags as well. It was clear that they were exhausted, but that they were determined to survive and not be a burden to their group. Daryl caught a smile forming on Jason's mouth and when their eyes met, Jason nodded. Daryl somehow understood that this was meant to be both accepting and encouraging. Maybe this kid wasn't so bad after all.

 

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: All reviews are very much appreciated and I try very hard to respond to all of them. I love chatting with people especially when it's about all things Rickyl or The Walking Dead!
> 
> Nerd References:  
> \- Romeo is named after the Jaeger Romeo Blue from the movie 'Pacific Rim'  
> \- Gypsy is named after the Jaeger Gypsy Danger from the movie 'Pacific Rim'

They made camp just before dusk, having wanted to use as much daylight for travel as they could. Just past a quaint little berg, they'd come to an overpass where the road went over the tracks. It had been ideal and their unofficial trail boss had probably known it was there, which was why he had insisted they push past the sign claiming a population of two-hundred-fifty. Jason had apparently anticipated being out for a few days and had pulled a looped rope from where it'd been tied to the right of his saddle horn and went about what he called "picketing" the horses. The absence of the rope revealed a cavalry style sword sheathed to the right of the saddle in symmetry to the rifle still sheathed to the left. Apparently, their new friend wanted to be ready for anything, and Daryl was starting to like this kid a little more with each little revelation.

 

Daryl had wondered at the start of their trip why he'd left the halters on under the horses' bridles and tied a lead rope back to their breast collars, but now it became obvious. The bridles were removed and hung on the saddle horns while the leads were tied to the picket line Jason had strung up between the cement pillars beneath the overpass. Beth and Maggie helped Jason tend the horses, bringing them pulled long grass by the armfuls while Jason disappeared off down the road a little ways, pulling water out of the nearby ditch with collapsible water pales he'd had in the saddle bags. Bob and Sasha set up a small campfire. Daryl paced the outside edge of the camp, alert for any hint that there were Walkers nearby, but Dundee seemed content to lay near the slowly growing fire, unconcerned.

 

"We've still got daylight," he noted, unable to stay still. "I wanna go back t' that little neighborhood an' poke around."

 

"I'll go with you," Maggie offered and patted Beth's shoulder as she loosened Romeo's girth a couple of notches. They nodded to each other and then Maggie was making her way over. "We'll be back before it's dark."

 

"Yeah," Daryl agreed as much for Maggie as the rest of the group. Everyone murmured cautions as the two of them set out. It was a short walk, maybe only taking about fifteen minutes, to reach the quiet little neighborhood. As one they moved toward the first house on the left alert for signs of Walkers or other survivors. They were maybe ten feet from the porch steps when Maggie spoke.

 

"A little bit like old times, isn't it?" She was smart and kept her voice down, but Daryl heard the yearning for better times loud and clear.

 

"Yeah." His agreement was simple and earnest. What else could he say? Anything he'd have to say at length would probably make her cry because it would be about Glenn or Michonne. Instead, he moved up the porch steps and gently pushed the door open. Someone at least had been holed up here. The living room was a mess of consolidated supplies. There was blood on the floor and a lot of it. Whatever had died there had either been disposed of by the survivors or drug off by the animals that had left their tracks and fur in the blood. A quick sweep of the house showed a couple of dispatched Walkers, but no signs as to who had been there or for how long they'd been gone. Given the lack of decay in the food stuffs and the freshened look of the place, Daryl's best guess was the occupant had been gone a day. Maybe two at the very most.

 

Maggie joined him in the kitchen after clearing the basement. "We'll have t' remember this place an' try t' come back once we've settled in somewhere."

 

Daryl lifted a can of black olives, briefly read the label, then looked up at her. "We've got a place."

 

The girl's eyebrows shot up. "What d'you mean we've got a place?"

 

Daryl wasn't terribly comfortable with the intensity of her stare, but he'd known the girl long enough to guess that she wasn't questioning his judgment or judging him. He just had her full and undivided attention because of the topic he'd chosen to speak on. "Jason. He's… invited us t' stay. Alla us. Whoever we can find." Looking back down at the olives, Daryl set the can down. "It's…secure. Safe. Stocked. Comfortable."

 

Her silence got to him after a moment, and he glanced up at her. Her expression was soft. "Why'd you come back out…if it's as nice as you say?"

 

Put on the spot, Daryl turned and walked back into the living room. Maggie caught up with him pretty damn quick for as exhausted as she had to be, cutting him off from the doorway. He could feel her eyes on the side of his head, staring hard because he wouldn't meet her gaze, silently demanding an answer. After a few long moments, Daryl finally met her searching brown eyes and growled, "Y'don't abandon family."

 

Immediately, he looked away again and shuffled a little further away from her. In his effort to avoid making eye contact with her again, his gaze landed on a corner of the room, and he froze. Maggie was starting to say something, but she shut her mouth with a click of her teeth when he surged away from her and crouched by the pile of discarded clothes. Bloodied, torn blue jeans and a torn up button up stained so dark with dirt, sweat and blood that if he hadn't already _known_ it was a few shades of tan in a very subtle plaid pattern…

 

Work roughened hands clenched so tight in the shirt his knuckles all popped at once.

 

"Daryl?"

 

Maggie's soft voice broke through the sudden reeling haze, and he managed a low murmur in response. "These're Rick's."

 

To her credit, and Daryl's relief, Maggie didn't question him just immediately crouched and lifted a ragged corner of the shirt. "I think you're right," she whispered back, a little bit of awe and a whole lot of hope in her voice. Daryl's stomach was in knots. Almost as one they shot to their feet and bolted out of the house onto the porch.

 

Maggie's voice was hoarse but loud as she called out to their leader. Daryl stopped in the middle of the road with her, slinging his crossbow to his shoulder and cupping his hands to his mouth to shout. "RICK!"

 

After a slight pause, they moved further down the road and each of them called out again in turn, pausing long enough to wait for a response. As they moved further down the road, Daryl tied the tattered shirt to his belt, making certain that it wouldn't come off before swinging his crossbow back up into a ready position. It was an unspoken thing between them that now they wouldn't be leaving until every house had been checked. With only eight on the block and one already down, it wouldn't take long. His heart was pounding, chest clenched tight with equal parts hope and terror. What if they found him Turned? What if they found him Turned but already dispatched? What if they found him at death's door? His clothes told a tale in shouted bloodstains…how much longer did he have? Or was it not as bad as all that, and he'd just been forced to move on? Had he chosen to move on in search of the rest of them once he'd stabilized enough to do so? Who was he with?

 

Only one other house revealed any answers. Maggie didn't question Daryl as he pushed open the door with the message "Walker inside. Got my shoe. Didn't get me." A knife through the skull ended the Walker, and Daryl picked up the shoe in question, tying it beside Rick's shirt on his belt with the laces. The whole mess had Carl written all over it, so maybe Rick and Carl were at least together and doing alright. It gave him hope. More than he'd thought he'd ever be able to carry again in his life after Sophia. Feeling both defeated and yet triumphant for the evidence they'd found, the two of them cleared the last house and then headed back to camp.

 

Much later that night, Daryl stared out of the overpass from where he sat in the soft red dirt beside the train tracks. Clenched tightly in his fist and held close to his body was hope. Rick's shirt had been like tinder, helping to ignite the fires of an optimism he'd been struggling to find for the last few days. The bastard had lived. Daryl's thin faith had been rewarded, and this time when his eyes burned at the thought of the one person he held more dear than any other he just buried his face in the shirt for a few deep breaths, allowing the fabric to absorb a few of his tears while he basked in the musky scent he'd come to associate with home. When his eyes stopped burning three breaths later, he lowered the shirt back to his thigh and rubbed his thumb across the fabric where it pulled tight over his pointer finger.

 

He had offered to take first watch, unable to sleep after their mostly unsuccessful search of the little neighborhood. They'd made it back to camp just after dark and were greeted first with concern and then with cautious joy. They'd discussed their options: going after Rick and Carl versus continuing on the tracks after the small group they'd been tracking to that point. Having found evidence that more of their group may have survived than they had dared to believe possible, it was a really tough decision, but in the end they opted to follow the tracks as the greater danger lay down that line than out in the wilderness as it seemed Rick and Carl had gone. Daryl had looked with the aid of a lighter and found no additional tracks to those that they'd been following.

 

Daryl glanced over at the burning embers of the fire before surveying each of his companions. Sasha and Bob lay back to back on their sides with Sasha facing the dying fire. Both looked to be asleep. Beth and Maggie lay curled together between Daryl and the fire pit, Beth's back to the embers as the two held tight to each other's hand. They were sleeping close enough that they were breathing each other's air. Jason slept on the other side of both pairs from Daryl, curled around his dog like Dundee was some kind of large teddy bear. The horses even seemed to be asleep in the stillness of the night barely moving a muscle from where they stood at the picket line.

 

The crack of a snapping twig was like a gunshot in the quiet. Stuffing Rick's shirt into his waistband, Daryl rose silently to his feet and took two steps forward. Standing at the edge of the shadows created by the overpass, he brought his crossbow up and stared hard into the dark. It seemed like forever before he heard the noise again. The horses were fidgeting now and a low growl from near his knees told Daryl that Dundee was up and unhappy about whatever was making the noise. A moment later, Jason appeared in Daryl's peripheral vision with a pistol held low but at the ready. Soft noises from behind him told Daryl that Jason had woken the others and that everyone was wisely grabbing up their weapons. One of them was even smart enough to start burying the glowing embers leftover from their fire in dirt. Dundee growled again, and Jason brought his pistol up.

 

The Walker that stumbled out of the woods was a sorry sight, clothes barely hanging on to the thing's thin shoulders. Clearly, the woman had been settling in for the night given her nightgown and slipper boots when things had gone to hell. There was a gaping hole where her abdomen should have been, remnants of intestines and other guts dangling over her exposed pelvis. Her lips and nose were missing, and it looked like her teeth were starting to fall out. Thankfully the moon was full, giving Daryl plenty of light by which to put a bolt in her eye socket. She went down in a heap, and the tension in the air vanished like smoke. Daryl moved to recover the bolt and found that Jason matched him step for step, eyes casting about warily. For a moment, the other young man's simple act of watching Daryl's back made him wish for Rick so hard his chest felt like it was going to implode.

 

"We should move on," the kid murmured, looking tense. "Where there's one Roamer, others are soon t' follow."

 

Daryl nodded, pushing the overwhelming emotions down again, and together they went back to the others. Nobody questioned them as Daryl started to roll up the bedrolls, and Jason went over to tighten the cinches on the saddles. Maggie and Beth moved over to help Jason take down the picket line and bridle the horses, while Sasha and Bob helped Daryl pack up camp. When everything was ready, the group of them moved out. Bob was the only one mounted, it going unsaid that his body needed time to recover from the wounds he'd suffered when the prison had been taken. With decent food in their bellies and a few hours sleep, the rest of their group was content to give the horses a little rest.

 

Traveling through the night sucked balls Daryl decided when he was unable to immediately pick up any concrete trail signs from the little group they'd been tracking to that point. Full moon or not, some signs were too subtle for even the best tracker to pick up in the dark. Frustrated, Daryl tried to soothe himself by retying Rick's shirt to his belt and keeping one hand there as an anchor. He kept telling himself getting angry now wouldn't solve anything. It didn't help that the emotion continued to roil and build beneath his skin like an almost living thing. His temper had been terrible his whole life – he was a Dixon born and bred after all – and, until he'd met Rick, he'd never seen a reason to try to control it. Rick would tell him to calm down and try to distract himself, but, with nothing but darkened trees to either side and unreadable read dirt before him, he had no idea how.

 

Something poked him low on his leg, and Daryl glanced down. Dundee walked beside him with a stick in his mouth. When Daryl met the dog's eyes, Dundee's pointy ears got taller, his tail wagging enthusiastically. Reaching down, Daryl took the stick and, without breaking stride, launched it on ahead of them. Dundee was off like a rocket, tearing after the slowly spinning stick and leaping up to catch it midair. The girls made a variety of impressed and soft-hearted noises behind him. Daryl rolled his eyes. Women. Still, he took the stick and rubbed the top of the dog's head when he returned before repeating the motion.

 

It wasn't until the dog had played himself out and they'd all stopped for breakfast at dawn that Daryl realized he wasn't so knotted up inside now. Rick and Carl and Judith were still missing, but getting angry back there wouldn't have helped them. If Daryl slipped Dundee a fairly large piece of his jerky, no one seemed inclined to comment though Jason ate his breakfast with a small smirk on his lips the whole time. Daryl decided not to let it bother him.

 

They pressed on as soon as they'd finished eating. Daryl had picked up the trail quickly in the bright light of day, and somewhere shortly after they'd set out, Jason spoke into the longstanding silence. "We should start foraging. Squirrels an' deer if we can get them. Whatever we can find in the houses an' stores we're going t' be comin' up to soon. We should keep the dried goods for whoever else we find an' emergencies. That way we'll all be guaranteed to have something to eat for the rest of this trip."

 

"Daryl's a really great hunter," Beth informed him, and Daryl glanced over at her. Both she and Maggie smiled at him, and he looked away again quickly. What was it with those two and treating him like he was this amazing person? Couldn't they see that he was just a nobody hick whose best skills were killing things, finding things to kill and playing the bad guy when the need came on them? "He'll probably have us each a squirrel before lunch."

 

And now they were setting expectations. Damn it.

 

Scoffing, Daryl turned and made his way into the edge of the tree line to their right. By the time the sun had reached its highest point in the sky, Daryl had shot three fat squirrels and two smaller ones as well as a rabbit Dundee had kicked up. Jason had congratulated him on a successful hunt like they were old friends and offered to help gut and skin the critters. Between the two of them they had lunch prepped and roasting on the small fire the girls had put together in no time. Sasha set about changing Bob's bandages before the food was done, and by the time she was finished she looked a little grim.

 

"Infection's setting in," she commented. Bob sighed, wincing when the expansion of his ribcage made the wound in his arm ache. Sasha laid a gentle hand on his other shoulder before looking back to Jason. "Got any antibiotics in those wonderbags of yours?"

 

Jason shook his head. "Sorry. We'll be coming up on another town here in the next couple miles. There's a pharmacy we can go through, see what's left. Might as well see what we can take home with us. There's room in the bags now."

 

Once everyone had eaten their fill and given their scraps to Dundee, they headed back out. True to his word, Jason led them off the tracks and down a paved road. It took an hour to get to the little town of Sunnydale. There was a bank, the pharmacy Jason had mentioned, a restaurant and church on the right side of the main street and a feed mill, a grocery store and a bar on the other. Only the essentials, Daryl thought and started toward the grocery store. This time it was Jason that went in with him while Maggie and Sasha went into the pharmacy. The others stayed out in the open, guarding the horses and their gear.

 

The back of his neck prickled as they edged into the darkened store. The glance Jason threw him told Daryl that the kid felt it too. They weren't alone in the building, but whether it was other survivors or Walkers was impossible to tell. Daryl gestured to the right, and Jason raised a hand in assent before carefully moving off to the in that direction. Daryl moved off to the left, watching carefully down each aisle crossbow at the ready. Nothing moved. The store was small, only maybe ten aisles in total, so when a tiny voice demanded, "Stop or I'll shoot." Daryl had to glance around himself quickly to make sure it wasn't him they were talking to. Given there was no one near him that he could see, Jason must have stumbled across them. Creeping down the aisle right in front of him, Daryl made it to the back of the store and started moving in the direction Jason had gone all the while listening to the conversation between Jason and the kid he'd found.

 

"Easy," Jason's voice was soft and soothing, like he was trying to calm one of his horses. "I'm not here t' hurt you. I'm just lookin' for some supplies. Are you all by yourself here?"

 

"These are my supplies. Leave or I'll shoot you." The kid sounded like a girl and damn but her voice was cold. Detached in an unhealthy way, like the thought of killing another living human being didn't bother her in the least. Daryl made it to the last aisle and pressed against the end cap of the shelves, listening for a moment longer and scanning his surroundings. The doors to the back of the store were almost directly in front of him and putting his back to them to face Jason's new friend didn't sit well with him.

 

Again Jason spoke, keeping his tone even and light. "My people are waitin' for me just out there in the street. A nice girl and a couple of very nice women. You could come with us. It's not right for a little girl like you t' be all by herself out here."

 

"I have my own people. I don't need you or your people." Daryl heard the gun cock and peered around the corner. Something between relief and concern flooded him at the sight. Straightening from the crouch he'd sunk into, Daryl strode out, crossbow hanging at his side.

 

"You best lower that gun an' put it on safe, girl. We ain't got time for games."

 

Jason's calm gaze lifted from the girl to Daryl as he holstered his pistol, but Daryl didn't look away from Lizzie as she turned and blinked owlishly at him. "Daryl," she said, far too calmly and lowered the gun. She did not put it on safe, but he'd let it slide for now. Of more concern than her disobedience, shouldn't a little girl be more ecstatic to see someone she knew given the circumstances?

 

"Where's your sister?" Daryl demanded.

 

"She's in the church. We had t' find a place to hide because a big group of Walkers came through while we were getting something t' eat. Tyreese is really sick, so we haven't left yet. We were going to Sanctuary. Is that where you've been?" Finally the girl put the gun on safe and let it hang in one hand at her side.

 

"No," Daryl answered simply. "Let's go see 'em."

 

Lizzie nodded then stepped over some scattered boxes on her way past Jason. Daryl and Jason fell into step behind her. Jason's mouth was grim. Daryl opted to say nothing, but he had to agree that something wasn't right with the kid. He'd thought so a few times before, but this little scene just proved him right. What eleven year old little girl faced down a grown man and didn't so much as flinch?

 

Blinking in the bright sunlight after having adjusted to the dim interior of the store, Daryl watched with blurry vision as Beth came forward to hug Lizzie, exclaiming over her sudden appearance. Lizzie seemed untouched by Beth's excitement, causing the older girl to get a puzzled look on her face. As they neared, Beth looked up to Daryl who shrugged. "She says Tyreese an' Mika are in the church. Go get Maggie and Sasha. We'll meetcha there."

 

Jason grabbed up the reins of all three horses as Beth took off at a jog for the pharmacy with Dundee on her heels. Daryl turned and started after Lizzie who was already making her way to the church without them. Jason fell into step beside him again. Lizzie opened the door and called into the church as soon as she got there. They'd just reached the bottom of the steps just a moment after her when a baby's wail cut through the quiet. Daryl felt his heart clench again for the millionth time in the last few days and surged up the stairs. Inside, the stained glass windows cast colorful streaks and spots about the muted interior, but Daryl only had eyes for one thing. The little girl in Carol's arms. And wasn't that just the damnedest thing. Rick had sent Carol away for acting without consulting the council afraid that she could become a danger to the very little girl that she was so clearly protecting now.

 

"Daryl!" Carol moved to meet him and wasted no time in passing Lil Asskicker over to him. Judith quieted immediately as he lifted her up high.

 

"Stop that fussin'," he murmured and brought the beaming little girl down, hugging her tight to his chest. Judith giggled and grabbed a few locks of Daryl's hair, pulling. He couldn't even bring himself to scold her for it.

 

Carol's voice was filled with emotion as she watched. "She was napping. Lizzie woke her too soon yelling into this echo-y place like that. She's been a lot fussier than she was. Not that I can blame her."

 

Daryl cupped the back of Judith's head with one hand, crossbow lying all but forgotten on the ground where he'd dropped it. He looked up and met Carol's watery gaze then nodded to her. She smiled, accepting his greeting. "She misses her dad," Daryl murmured and leaned away from the little girl a bit to look at her. She giggled at him again and let go of his hair to smack his cheek. Daryl smiled at her and she grinned up at him, just the edges of her little teeth peeking out of her moist pink gums. "And her big brother."

 

"Her hero, too," Carol put in and the grin slipped from Daryl's face. He doubted Judith missed _him_ all that much. Carol looked like she was about to say something, when Sasha burst through the doors. Carol immediately turned her attention to the frantic woman, moving past Daryl to take Sasha's hand.

 

"Where is he?" Sasha demanded, and Carol started pulling her silently to the back of the church. Jason came in with Maggie, Bob and Beth then, so Daryl stooped and shouldered his crossbow before moving over to the rest of the group.

 

"This," he announced as Maggie and Beth grinned and moved toward him to coo at the little girl in his arms. "Is Lil Asskicker."

 

"Judith," Beth corrected him, but her dirty look was playful.

 

"S'what I said," Daryl countered and looked to Jason. The kid was staring at the baby in something close to shock.

 

"She's…alive."

 

" _Course_ she is. She's a _Grimes_ ," Daryl growled before scoffing at the kid's foolishness. He looked at the baby in his arms then around at the church. "I reckon this is as good a place as any for us t' leave the majority. Huntin' an' trackin' trips ain' no place for kids."

 

Still staring at the baby, Jason nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, sounding lost. Then he seemed to come out of his daze, shaking off the disbelief like a waterdog sheds lake water. "I mean, yeah. We'll round up a bunch o' supplies, make sure they're secure and then head back out. Who do we still have t' find?"

 

"Glenn; that's Maggie's husband. Lil Asskicker's dad and big brother. Michonne." Daryl couldn't help the almost giddy feeling bubbling in his chest though he did his best not to let it show. It wouldn't be long now and his family would be whole again. Beth tugged at his elbow. Reluctantly, he slid Judith into her arms. Maggie fell on the pair like she was rabid or something, and the two of them went into mom-mode, checking Judith's diaper and conversing about getting formula. Daryl rolled his eyes, and Jason grinned at him.

 

"You have no room t' talk," the kid stated. Daryl glared.

 

"What's that supposed t' mean, smart guy?" he growled, taking a step toward the kid. Jason just held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, still smiling, but he didn't back down.

 

"Nothin'."

 

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Daryl chose to ignore the stupid smirk on the kid's face.

 

The sudden pop of a gunshot startled everyone, each of them pulling out a weapon while Beth moved into the middle of the loose circle they immediately formed around her and Judith. Bob pushed himself up from the church pew he'd laid back on, all eyes trained on the back of the church. Carol and Mika emerged moments later. Mika was crying, and Carol looked sad and tired. Everyone relaxed as the two came forward.

 

"Where's Lizzie?" Mika asked as she sniffled and wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve. Daryl, like everyone else, looked about them, noting the girl's absence for the first time. Carol knelt by Mika and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

 

"Lizzie's having a hard time right now, sweetheart. She's strong in ways you aren't, but you're strong in ways she isn't too. She's probably just outside. Why don't you go talk to her? If she's not by the church, come back, and we'll go find her together okay?"

 

The little girl nodded, and once she was out the front doors, Daryl turned back. Carol's lips tried to smile a little at him, but she just couldn't manage it. "Tyreese got bit protecting the girls. I had Judith. There wasn't anything we could do. The fever set in this morning. It's a blessing that he got to see Sasha. That she got to be the one."

 

They fell into silence then, each lost in thought until Mika burst back through the door. "There are horses outside! And a dog!"

 

Jason shed the fugue of the moment first and smiled at her. "C'mon. I'll introduce ya an', maybe if you ask 'em really nice, one of them will give you a ride."

 

Mika giggled and followed him out, asking questions so fast Daryl wasn't sure how the kid was keeping up with her. Carol grabbed his attention again when she said, "He seems nice."

 

Beth grinned at that and launched into the story of how they'd met Jason with Carol listening avidly. Daryl looked around him at the people he had thought for certain he'd lost forever. At Judith who looked sleepy and content as she was rocked absentmindedly in Beth's familiar embrace. The world still felt a little empty, but it was slowly filling back up.

 

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Sasha emerged from the back of the church a good long while later. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she hunched a little like she was in physical pain. Maggie and Carol had gone off to start gathering supplies to stock up the church just a little bit ago, and Jason was entertaining Mika, Beth, Judith and trying to interest Lizzie with the animals. Bob got up and went to her immediately, sparing Daryl the uncomfortable responsibility of trying to be something he wasn't. Comforting people, women especially, just wasn't something he was able to do. At least not well enough for a woman who'd just lost her last blood kin.

 

He did walk over and gently lay a hand on her shoulder. She looked to him, biting her lower lip, and nodded. Daryl took that as a yes to his unspoken question and made his way to the back of the church. Dirty work he could handle. He located the back door first then checked the few rooms until he found the one with the sheet covered body. It was a little bit of a struggle, Tyreese hadn't been a small man, but eventually he managed to get the body outside. For a moment, he considered just walking away now that the body was out of the church, but Andrea's voice whispered in the back of his mind, "We bury the ones we love and burn the rest."

 

Sasha had loved her brother. Tyreese deserved a grave if only because Sasha had loved him. After all it didn't matter a lick to Tyreese with him being dead and all. There was a small shed behind the church and it took very little effort to break the lock on it. Inside were all kinds of garden tools. When he was finished burying Tyreese, he'd haul the useful ones inside for his people to have as weapons.

 

It was hard work, and it was hot, but Daryl didn't quit until the job was done. When he finally came back into the church with his crossbow on his shoulder and several garden tools in his arms, the others had come back. Maggie and Carol had apparently made several trips while he'd been toiling away in the backyard. They now had enough food, formula, baby food and bottled water to last them the next few days. Long enough, Daryl reckoned, for them to find Rick and the others.

 

Beth approached him while he set the garden tools on the nearest pew and offered him a bottle of water. He took it with a nod that she returned. "I'm goin' t' stay here with Judith. Maggie wants t' go out with you and Jason t' find Glenn and the others."

 

Daryl sucked down the last of the water, not caring that some of it was dribbling down his chin, then crunched the bottle when he was done, tossing it off to the side. "Alright."

 

Beth fidgeted. "Jason thinks you guys should move out as soon as you're ready. He seems really worried that if any of our people reach Terminus …this supposed Sanctuary… they'll never make it back out alive."

 

"Then we best get goin'." Daryl wiped at his chin and started to move past her, but her hand on his elbow stopped him. Looking down, he met worried blue-grey eyes.

 

"You are a very valuable part of this group. You've kept us fed and alive and protected right from the start." Those eyes searched his, and Daryl was surprised that he felt no inclination to look away. "If you see the Terminus gates before you've found Rick or Carl or Michonne or even Glenn…you turn your ass right back around and come home. We can't lose you both."

 

She didn't have to tell him that she meant they couldn't lose both him and Rick. After a small internal struggle – not one part of him was in any way okay with leaving Rick behind, or any of the others – he finally nodded. It was what Rick would have wanted Daryl to do. Rick would have wanted Daryl to make sure his little girl had a good long life and that the others were taken care of. Satisfied, Beth nodded and let go of his elbow before moving on to Sasha who was seated in a pew near the altar. Daryl watched her go a minute, then continued on his way over to Jason and Maggie who were talking quietly by the doors. They both turned to him when he neared them.

 

"We'll head back t' that little neighborhood where y'found the shirt an' shoe," Jason said. He was all business. "I think you're a good enough tracker that we might be able t' pick up their trail before nightfall if we hurry. Maggie says Rick wears cowboy boots and that sounds like a blatant kinda track to follow in all this read dirt."

 

Daryl nodded, but a sudden presence at his elbow stopped him before he could say anything in reply. Carol had come up with Judith, and she handed the little girl to Daryl before he'd fully registered that she was there. "You come back," Carol insisted and leaned up to kiss Daryl's cheek before he could protest or duck away. "She needs you at the very least."

 

Daryl looked down at the little girl in his arms then pulled Judith close to kiss her forehead. "I'll be back 'fore y' know it."

 

Carol accepted this and carefully took Judith back. The little girl squirmed and whined, reaching back for Daryl. It warmed his heart to see her so adamantly interested in him, and he reached out to catch her little hands in gentle, calloused fingers. "Hey. You be a good little hellraiser while I’m gone," he murmured. It was hard to let her hands go, but he made himself and turned to the others. "Let's get goin'. We're wastin' time."

 

Jason and Maggie abruptly turned, and he followed them out the door without a backwards glance.

 

Hours later and Daryl had been unable to find a single track that he could definitively say was Rick's. Not on the way back to the neighborhood they'd found the shirt and shoe at and not once they'd reached the little berg. Couldn't find Carl's either. It stood to reason that the boy had been smart enough to find himself another pair of shoes eliminating the obvious shoe/no shoe tracks. There were just too many tracks from Walkers and, potentially, other survivors in the yards of the houses in the neighborhood, and it was the same with the shoulders of the road. It was _frustrating_ , and Daryl felt his temper rising again.

 

"Doesn't yer damn dog track?" he grumbled when they'd stopped for a break several hours after arriving in the neighborhood. He knew he sounded pissed, but sunset wasn't far off, and they didn't even know if they were heading in the right direction. It was disappointing and twisted him up inside. Maggie looked just as put out, remaining mostly silent for the trip so far. Traveling down a paved road because they were taking a shot in the dark and hoping that it was the way Rick and Carl had gone since there had been no signs of the pair along the railroad they'd started out on made Daryl feel useless.

 

Jason seemed thoughtful for a moment and then shrugged as he pulled Striker to a stop. Gypsy and Romeo automatically stopped to either side of him. "He's not made for that like a bloodhound is, but I might be able t' make him understand. Like I said before, he's pretty intuitive. We'll try in the morning and use the shirt."

 

"So, we're campin' for the night?" Maggie slid from Gypsy's saddle as she asked. Daryl followed suit. He was pretty sore, his feet and legs feeling like lead when they finally met with the ground. He'd never spent so much time on horseback before, and it would take some getting used to. Briefly, he felt a twinge of longing for Merle's…well, his motorcycle.

 

"Yeah," Jason said and reached into his saddlebags for a bottle of water that he could share with Dundee. "We'll move off t' the side more, but I don't think going out into the woods with the animals is the best idea. Too much chance for them t' get hung up if things turn south somehow."

 

"I agree," Maggie murmured and started in on Gypsy's tack.

 

Camp was a pathetic thing with no shelter. The horses' lead lines were dropped in what Jason called "ground-tying" since they had no place to safely picket them, but the bridles were moved to the saddle horns as if they were so that the horses could graze along the shoulder of the road. Maggie started talking about a beagle that her family had had when she was a little girl and how it had always been running off after rabbits and squirrels. Clearly she was just trying to fill the silence, but the soft chatter was actually kind of nice. They kept their fire low and ate small portions of the dried goods for dinner. Daryl was grateful that Carol and Maggie had made sure to stuff a few new water bottles into their saddlebags before they'd left. Jason took first watch while Daryl and Maggie stretched out back to back on their bedrolls to try and catch at least a little sleep. It would be hard with them being so exposed, but at least the fucking weather was giving them a break and staying nice.

 

At the first light of dawn, Daryl woke Maggie and Jason with gentle shoves to their feet with his gnawed on boot. He was really feeling the pressure of their time limits now, having spent all morning unable to think of anything but Rick and what he might be going through right then alone and injured. He couldn't shake an almost overwhelming feeling of dread. Maggie and Jason got up without complaint and the three of them ate in silence each of them offering bits of their jerky to Dundee to compliment the little bag of kibble Jason pulled out of the saddlebags once a day. It explained why his saddlebags were bigger than the sets attached to the saddles on Gypsy and Romeo since he had to carry the extra necessities to care for a dog and the horses. While Maggie and Daryl broke down camp, Jason took the horses down the road a little ways to a deeper part of the ditch to let them drink their fill of what little water had collected there.

 

When the horses were tacked up again, Jason opened his hand, silently asking Daryl for Rick's shirt. The hunter handed the shredded cloth over somewhat reluctantly. Daryl watched in silence as Jason squatted down and called Dundee over to him. The dog came forward and sat obediently in front of his master. Jason tucked his fingers around the dog's collar and pushed the shirt under Dundee's nose. Interested in the new scents, Dundee spent a good deal of time sniffing while Jason turned the garment over and over in his hand, whispering in a soft encouraging voice, "Good boy. Get a good whiff, bud. Where is he? Think you can find him? Where is he, Dun?" Eventually, Dundee seemed to lose interest in the scents and looked up into Jason's face. Jason glanced back at them and nodded toward the horses. "You two might want t' mount up. I don't know if he's gonna run with this or just move along like usual. He might not understand what we want."

 

Once they were mounted, Jason released the collar, and Dundee moved off with a wave of Jason's hand his nose low to the ground. Jason rushed into his saddle and pushed Striker after the dog immediately though Dundee seemed to be in no real hurry. Several dull hours later, they found themselves on the edge of a small town the road they were traveling passing over a few sets of railway tracks. Dundee veered to the left, and Jason turned Striker after him. As they passed a lone abandoned box car, Maggie read aloud, "Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive. Terminus."

 

Jason scoffed softly. "Catchy."

 

Daryl frowned and looked hard at the sign as Romeo ambled slowly past it. To be honest, if he'd come across it before, when it had been just him and Beth, he probably would have made a bee line right for the place. It would have been worth at least a look. It was his best guess that Rick, hurting from what the Governor had put him through, without his baby girl or any of the people he'd come to rely on for so many things, would think only of Carl and the safety this place might provide for his son. Rick wasn't stupid. He knew that Carl was capable, and probably acknowledged that the kid was more able-bodied than himself right now, but he was a father before anything. Daryl admired him for a great many honorable traits – because Rick definitely had a strong sense of honor as Carol had once pointed out to him a few months before they'd found the prison – and his taking his duties as a father so very seriously was one of the highest ranking ones in Daryl's book. Still there was no denying that there was more strength in numbers. Maggie knew it. It was one of the many reasons she'd offered to leave Beth's side to help them continue the search for the rest of their loved ones. Daryl knew it. Hell, Jason had pointed it out that very first day they'd met, saying he was alone and thought that they might need him as much as he needed them. So, it stood to reason that Rick would try to find a new group as quickly as possible if he felt he couldn't find the old one. Daryl felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach. Had Rick really given up on them or was he hoping to ask the residents of Terminus to help him look for his own people? Maybe, like Daryl just had, he'd come to the conclusion that it was most likely that any of the prison survivors would head for Terminus in the hopes of finding safety and more of the family in one go.

 

"Glenn wasn't on the bus with the Woodbury people," Maggie said into the silence that seemed to be smothering them. Jason glanced over at her. Daryl did the same, broken out of his thoughts by the suddenness of her voice. "They had t've left him behind."

 

"What are you tryin' t' say?" Daryl prompted after a few heartbeats when Maggie didn't offer anything else. It was clear she was trying to work out where to start looking for her husband when they'd finished their search for Rick and Carl.

 

Maggie turned to fix him with an intense stare her hair bouncing with the sudden movement. "What I'm sayin' is, I think I'm gonna have t' start lookin' at or at least nearer t' the prison. We should try t' find a way t' gather up the supplies we had there too."

 

Daryl couldn't keep the derision out of his voice when he asked, "And jus' how the hell are we gonna do that? There were Walkers _pourin'_ in by the dozens when Beth an' I lit outta there. There's no way we could get back in without gettin' dead."

 

"So, we lure the Walkers out," Jason pointed out. "They're pretty simple creatures. Dumber than cattle really, so they won't even try t' get outta being herded or led int' a pen. We would just have t' take precautions an' be extra careful. Take extra measures with safety. Hell, get 'em all in one place an' burn the sum bitches. It'll be that many less we have to deal with ever again. Exterminate the plague little by little as we need to. No point makin' it a vendetta or anythin' – it isn't worth the risks except where we would need to get through them – but it's worth a little risk t' find your family an' get supplies."

 

They rode in silence for a few moments, each seeming lost in thoughts of Walker extermination or loved ones.

 

"If Glenn is there, he might've holed up with the food an' water we left behind," Daryl muttered contemplatively and scratched at his chin. His stubble was starting to get out of hand even by his standards, but he'd worry about it when people's lives weren't on the line. "Even if he'd gotten off the bus after they'd cleared the incomin' Walkers, we should still backtrack an' it would be worth it t' get our hands on the supplies there."

 

"We can talk more about it after we've regrouped. We'll round up a map of the area an' see where people have been, make note of the places we should still check. There's no guarantee we'll find him, but if we have a plan our chances get better," Jason suggested. Maggie nodded and then turned her attention back to their surroundings. Dundee continued moving on ahead of them at a steady walk. The silence fell around them again, but this time it felt lighter. Maybe having a little bit of a plan already had lightened the tension winding around them the longer they went without evidence that they were taking the right route.

 

It was late in the afternoon when they came to the edge of a fairly large city. It wasn't the size of Atlanta, but it was significant compared to the little bergs and villages they'd been passing through and around. Dundee stopped and started casting about in a five foot circle, nose working overtime on the ground. Jason twisted around a bit in his saddle, taking in his surroundings.

 

"Terminus is on the other side o' this city. It's on the outskirts really. You can just see it," he explained and pointed. In the distance, looming over the tops of the not-too-tall businesses of the city, was the outline of a few industrial buildings about a two hour walk away if the city were clear. "This place is where all o' the little towns we've gone through were evacuated to, so this city… it's gonna be crawlin' with Walkers. Dun, sit."

 

Daryl watched as the dog stopped sniffing around and sat on command. Ears up, Dundee stared out into the city streets. Across the road they'd stopped at were the first buildings of the city. Daryl looked down the street as well and narrowed his eyes. He could see a few Walkers meandering about down there, unaware of their presence for now. That could change with a shift in the wind. Sliding from the saddle, he moved to stand beside the dog.

 

"We don't know for sure that your dog was trackin' Rick's scent…" Maggie hazarded, looking antsy as she noted more Walkers shambling about, popping in and out of alleyways and side streets. Daryl cast her a look that clearly said 'man up' and pulled his crossbow off his shoulder before walking forward to the middle of the cross road. Stopping, he turned back and looked at them.

 

"Let's go. We ain' got all damn day."

 

Jason studied him for a moment before saying, "We should leave the horses here. They're not the best on pavement an' cities have too many tight spaces for them." He was already glancing around them, but seemed at a loss as to where exactly they could leave them. Daryl had just taken a step back toward Romeo, when Dun shot back to his feet, turning to the right and staring, his ears twitching. Jason seemed not to notice, looking in the same direction with his back to the dog.

 

"Jason," Maggie called softly and the kid turned in the saddle to look just as the dog bolted.

 

"Dun!" Jason barked, startled. Instead of whistling as Daryl would have expected, he whirled Striker to the right and took off after the dog. Daryl rushed to Romeo's side. Maggie and Gypsy were already hot on Jason and Striker's heels, and Romeo, not wanting to be left behind, was moving before Daryl was fully in the saddle. With a last heave, he pulled himself up and settled in the seat, cursing the whole while.

 

Dundee skidded around the corner of the last building on their left, forced to turn by a fence that stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. It ran alongside the building, creating an alley wide enough that Jason was able to take Striker in after Dundee once he'd slowed the horse down enough to make the turn. As Romeo and Gypsy followed suit, Maggie cast Daryl a terrified look, and Daryl could practically hear her thoughts about being boxed in and overrun. Romeo and Gypsy stopped just behind Striker's giant ass a few feet into the alley, and Daryl looked out into a train yard below them. Multiple tracks ran side by side, and there were a few box cars scattered here and there. Those remaining cars served as a backdrop for the scene playing out before them; a scene that had Daryl's heart bouncing right up into his throat.

 

The fence beside the building that had once separated the alley from the train yard was down by several panels. From their vantage point on their side of the fence, they looked down a hill and into the train yard below, giving them the perfect view. Dun stood on one of the knocked flat fence panels, toes falling through the diamond shapes of the chain link as he stared avidly at the herd of Walkers below and panting. The Walkers shambled, alert like they'd been startled by some noise, but weren't yet in the full on feeding frenzy that said they'd realized a meal was near. Crouched behind one of the box cars, all of them hunched low and looking exhausted, were Michonne, Carl and… Rick.

 

Even with the distance between them, Daryl could tell the man was suffering. He held himself stiffly, hunched forward with an arm around his midsection for support, and Daryl's own ribs ached in empathy. He'd had broken ribs before, and it was no fucking picnic. Rick looked seconds from passing out, half-supported by Carl while Michonne peered around the edge of the box car that served as their cover. There was no way to get their attention without getting the attention of the Walkers too. Daryl's hands tightened on Romeo's reins, and the horse tossed his head, dancing a little in place as he picked up on Daryl's tension.

 

"Oh, god," Maggie whispered, eyes still wide but now even more terrified. "What're we gonna do?"

 

Daryl growled, snapping out, "We have t' get them the hell outta there or they're gonna end up Walker chow."

 

Silent, Jason just moved Striker forward at a slow walk. The horse seemed to tip toe over the downed fence until he was standing on the narrow strip of grassy hilltop just on the other side of it. Dundee had moved forward as well, standing by Striker's front hooves like he was ready to spring forward at a moment's notice. Daryl flicked a glance Jason's way as he moved Romeo up on Striker's right. He could just see the kid processing the scene, eyes flickering from Daryl's family to the too-close Walker herd and then on down the tracks away from the yard. When Maggie pulled Gypsy to a stop on Striker's left, Jason glanced at her then finally looked to Daryl.

 

"We're goin' down there. The hill's not steep at all. The horses can take it at a gallop. Two riders per horse otherwise things'll get complicated."

 

Maggie shook her head. "Those Walkers are too close."

 

"They'll be on us before our people could get behind the saddles," Daryl agreed, eyes falling back to the way Rick tried to straighten and curled in on himself in agony in turns. "Rick's hurt," he added into the contemplative silence. "It's gonna take more than a minute t' get him up behind me."

 

Jason didn't respond. After a few moments more of studying the scene below, he swung out of the saddle and dropped to his knees behind Dundee. The dog turned to face him and Jason took the dog's face into his hands, pulling him close to kiss the white spot on his head before burying his face in the dog's thick fur. Daryl glanced up from the two on the ground and met Maggie's wide brown eyes. She looked as confused and concerned as he felt. After a few heartbeats, Jason rose to his feet and climbed back into the saddle. "You just get down there. I'll take the boy. Maggie, you take the woman. Once everybody's mounted, we run hard down the tracks together or the horses will go stupid. They don't like being separated much. Everybody clear?"

 

Jason looked to each of them in turn, staring until they nodded. Then he looked out over the scene one last time, took a deep breath and said, "Dun." The dog tore his gaze from the Walkers and stared up into his master's face with the single most eager expression Daryl had ever seen on a dog. "Run the line."

 

The dog whipped around and launched himself off the hilltop. He landed on the side of the hill at a flat out run. The sudden movement and the sounds of a running dog caught the attention of Michonne, Rick and Carl, and they all watched as the dog flew towards the front line of the herd. The closest Walker turned, alerted by the sounds of something living. Dundee barked at the creature, darting in and grabbing the awkward thing's pant leg, tugging once and dancing away so fast the thing barely had time to react. Then he was off again, running up and down the front line of Walkers, antagonizing them like it was the best game in the entire world. Back and forth. Bark. Bark. Back and forth. Bark. Bark. Bark.

 

That was all that Daryl got to see of the show because Jason launched Striker down the hill, and Romeo and Gypsy followed with hardly a nudge. Dundee had the Walkers' full attention, and Daryl understood now what Jason's plan was. Let the dog distract the Walkers while they got their people up and ready to go. Daryl felt a little bit of genuine gratitude towards the kid. It was a tough play, but he hadn't hesitated to make the call.

 

Daryl saw Michonne grab Rick's shoulder, the first to spot them coming. Rick looked up and in that moment he looked so weak with relief that he might faint. Carl and Michonne didn't give him the chance, helping Rick to his feet almost forcefully. Daryl kicked Romeo hard, and the horse surged forward, passing Striker and reaching the trio strides before the other two horses. Romeo stopped hard in front of the three, and Daryl, grateful that the horse was a smoother ride than any he'd been on in the past and that the sudden stop hadn't sent him over the horse's head, reached out one hand, offering Rick help up. "Need a lift, Officer?"

 

The grin on Rick's face was priceless, and Daryl found himself returning the smile without hesitation or self-consciousness.

 

"Daryl, you crazy son of a bitch," Rick gasped through gritted teeth as he pulled his arm off Carl's shoulders and slowly reached up to grip Daryl's forearm. Daryl gripped Rick's own forearm in turn, holding tight and pulling up. With Michonne and Carl's help, Rick made it up behind Daryl's saddle and wrapped one arm tight around Daryl's waist.

 

Unable to resist, Daryl gripped tight to Rick's wrist at his belly and looked over his shoulder. "Don't fuckin' let go cuz we're about t' haul ass outta here."

 

"Yeah," Rick whispered voice hoarse with emotion and pressed his forehead into the back of Daryl's neck, tightening his arm around Daryl's middle. Satisfied that Rick wouldn't be doing anything stupid, Daryl looked down to Carl.

 

"Yer ridin' with the cowboy," Daryl told him and glanced to Michonne who nodded and dragged Carl over to help him onto Striker's ass. She was up behind Maggie a heartbeat later, and Daryl finally looked back out toward the herd. The Walkers were closing in on Dundee from the sides, forming a horseshoe that the dog danced in and out of with glee. If they waited much longer, the Walkers would be encircling him, blocking his escape. He looked to Jason, who had Striker squarely facing the herd, his eyes never leaving his dog. It was time to go, and Daryl told him so by saying, "Let's get the fuck outta here."

 

Jason dropped the reins so that the knot fell on his side of the saddle horn ensuring he wouldn't lose them and pulled both pistols out of his hip holsters even as he let out a loud, short and very sharp whistle. Dundee turned, blowing out of the closing circle of Walkers like he'd been shot from a cannon. Jason fired into the skulls of the foremost Walkers, giving Dundee plenty of room to escape and as the dog neared, he snapped, "Dun! Point!"

 

The dog whipped right on by tongue lolling.

 

One pistol found its holster as Jason took up the reins again, and it was as if Striker was reading Jason's mind. The horse spun so fast one hoof ground into the dirt of the train yard like a drill bit into wood. Jason's upper body remained mostly stationary twisting only in the middle as the kid continued to shoot Walkers right up until the point where Striker launched forward. At that moment, the other pistol was holstered, and Jason hunched low over the horse's neck. Everything had seemed to run in slow motion as the Walkers began shambling toward them, but it must have taken only a handful of heartbeats before they were all on their way. Carl clung tight to Jason's waist, burying his face in Jason's back with one hand holding his hat on his head. Michonne hugged tight to Maggie, and both hunched low over the horse's back, both of them familiar with riding at speed. Rick cursed colorfully behind Daryl every few strides as his ribs were unavoidably jarred. With one hand on the reins and the other on Rick's wrist at his stomach, Daryl let out a whooping holler. He didn't even need to look behind them to know that they were leaving the Walkers in the dust. Maggie and Michonne started to giggle and even Carl let out a whoop of his own. Jason remained grim, focused on the bobbing tail hauling ass in front of them.

 

Daryl couldn't help but wonder why, if they'd been so successful, the other young man seemed to feel like they'd lost something? Then again, he'd almost sacrificed his best friend and partner for perfect strangers. It wasn't unreasonable for him to be a little shaken up by events. Rick cursed again behind him, and Daryl, unable to help it, looked over his shoulder and shouted, "Stop bein' such a pussy!" just to get a rise out of the other man. Rick, in retaliation, pinched Daryl's stomach _hard_ , but said nothing. He didn't have to. Daryl could feel the other man's grin against the back of his neck.

 

 

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I've been struggling with the Rickyl dynamic for this slow-build fic for a couple days now. I want to keep Rick and Daryl as in character as possible, to keep their voices as true to their television selves as possible, and so I've done a lot of character study and introspection from each character's point of view (I do a lot of driving for my job and that makes for great think it through time). Rick was…not easy, but at least I was able to reason out his reasonings for going for Daryl well enough that I was comfortable moving him into the Rickyl arena as it were. Daryl was proving more difficult, given his up-bringing, where he grew up and so on. Therefore, I want to throw a HUGE thank you out there to fuckyeahrickyl and yellowgrenade on tumblr for bringing this Reddit post to my attention and giving me so much "ammo" for my Daryl reasonings that it isn't even funny.
> 
> (www.reddit.com/r/thewalkingdead/comments/1zjfp6/so_i_have_this_theory_about_daryl_dixon/)

By the time Jason let out a long low whistle, calling Dundee to a stop and pulling Striker up to a standstill, they'd left the Walkers so far behind it would take the stumbling things days to catch up to them. Daryl watched as Carl lifted his head from Jason's back and unwound his arms, allowing the guy to slip from the saddle. Immediately, Jason began running his hands over Dundee's body, checking him for injury. It seemed like the dog was okay, and Daryl was secretly relieved. Or maybe not so secretly, as the warmth pressed behind him shifted a little, and Rick's hot, amused breath ghosted past his ear, raising goose pimples on his arms.

 

"Looks like you've done well for yourself." Rick's gravelly voice was tight, but earnest; pained but deeply relieved. "Have you found any o' the others?"

 

Daryl half-twisted to look over his shoulder, Rick leaning back as much as his battered body would allow, and nodded. "Yeah. Sasha, Bob an' Maggie kinda found me, Beth an' Jason, that's the cowboy over there. Tyreese made it til he didn't, but he went out like a hero, savin' Lizzie and Mika. Carol an' Lil Asskicker are with them."

 

"Judith," Rick choked his face crumpling with the intensity of his emotions.

 

Daryl cursed himself silently, figuring it might have been better if he'd broken the news a little more smoothly or gently or something. He swung his leg over Romeo's neck - thankful that he'd hung his crossbow off the saddle horn for the rescue - and slipped to the ground in a hurry, reaching up to help the unsteady man down by practically lifting him off Romeo's rump and easing him to the ground. "I've gotcha, brother. Easy."

 

"Dad!" Carl exclaimed and slid down from Striker's ass himself, rushing to his father's other side. "What's wrong?"

 

Rick was giddy with relief, grinning like a loon and crying as the fingers of his free hand scrabbled for a hold on Daryl's shirt. Those long digits finally found purchase just as Daryl pulled him close in a tight embrace and let Rick press hard into him. To Carl he explained, "Judith. She's waitin' for you guys back where we've got everyone holed up."

 

"Judith," Carl repeated in disbelief bordering on exuberance. "She's alive?!"

 

Daryl knew the look on his face was probably comically murderous. "What _is_ it wit' you people? _Course_ she's _alive_. She's a god damned _Grimes_."

 

Carl and Rick both burst out laughing, and Daryl wondered how the man could chuckle like that when his ribs were so obviously such a fucked up mess. Then Carl threw his arms around Rick and Daryl both, making it a group hug, and derailing Daryl's concern for Carl's father's condition for a brief, shocked moment. Daryl shifted a little uncomfortably unused to the level of intimacy he currently found himself in. Rick seemed to sense Daryl's discomfort and wasn't having any of it because he wrapped his other arm – the one that had been around his own middle – around Daryl too, burying his face in the side of Daryl's neck. It was almost comforting until Rick just let go, crying in soft almost hiccupping sobs. Then it was more like giving comfort. Not something he was good at, but Daryl just…held on to both of them because then Carl had started to cry too, and Daryl wasn't about to push either one of them away. What the hell else was he supposed to do? They were his family. If he got a little misty eyed himself, the only one who would know would be Rick because the dampness was absorbed by the shirt covering his collarbone.

 

So, there they sat in the middle of the railroad tracks, Rick and Carl crying themselves out. Daryl felt Michonne place a gentle hand on his shoulder after a while, offering up her own comfort for them. Maggie also stood close by, tears slipping from her lashes that she wiped away over and over, trying to keep it together. Jason still knelt off to the side, but he was facing them now. Dundee lay sprawled at his side, and he had one hand resting on the dog's scruff. He met Daryl's gaze directly and nodded, a soft smile on his face. Carl finally pulling away brought Daryl's attention back to the two Grimes men in his arms.

 

"I'm glad you're one of ours, Daryl," Carl said, sniffing and rubbing at his eyes with the back of his wrist. "Because if you were one of Theirs…we wouldn't stand a chance."

 

The kid looked so serious Daryl didn't know what to say. Rick, though he didn't look up, thankfully spared him having to respond right away by putting in, "What Carl's tryin' t' say is: we can't thank you enough for… _everythang_ you've done for us. If it weren't for you…"

 

Rick seemed unable to finish as another surge of emotion washed over him. He clung even more tightly to Daryl, though this time there were no tears just some heavy breathing that had to be painful, and Daryl caved, clinging back. The poor guy had been through hell and back several times over and he was allowed a breakdown every now and then. Especially after what he must have just gone through. "Nah, man. You'da done the same damn thing if ya hadn'a got the shit beat outta ya. And Carl… but he had t' look after yer laid up ass. Besides, it's like I told ya before. No reason you have t' do alla the heavy liftin'."

 

The crunch of railroad gravel under boots caught Daryl's attention, and he lifted his cheek from the side of Rick's head to look up. Jason stood over them with the first aid kit in his hands. "Let's get you looked at," Jason offered. "Then get you back to your little girl."

 

At that, Rick did lift his head, meeting Jason's gaze for a long moment before nodding. Daryl hesitated for just a second. Did he really want to let Jason get that up close and personal with Rick? He had only just found Rick again…what if Jason fucked up and missed something? What if he had been playing them this whole time and was just waiting for the right moment to grab them by the short hairs? What if-

 

"Daryl," Rick's voice was a soft murmur near his ear. The other man had turned his head and was looking up at him through the mess of his twisting bangs. Seeing he had Daryl's attention, Rick offered up a wry little smirk and murmured, "I could use a little help."

 

Daryl nodded, snapped out of his paranoia by the trusting look in Rick's eyes. Rick trusted Daryl to watch out for him. Jason hadn't done nothing but right by them so far and the kid had nothing to gain by endangering Rick. It was just a little overwhelming to have the one person that mattered more to him than anyone else in the world right there in front of him again. It made Daryl want to wrap the man in fluffy blankets like they did with Judy and tuck him into a safe little cubby even with as _embarrassing_ at that thought was. Giving Rick a small nod, Daryl did his best to help the other man adjust himself around so that he was seated with his legs out in front of him, but he wasn't a nursemaid. It was a little awkward trying to figure out where to put his hands and what to do. In the end, however, the only thing keeping Rick upright was probably the arm Daryl had looped around Rick's back. Jason knelt and offered his hand. Rick took it in a firm handshake.

 

"It's a pleasure t' finally meet you, Mr. Grimes."

 

"The pleasure's mine," Rick said. "And it's jus' Rick. Thank you… for lookin' after my people."

 

"They've done as much for me as I have for them. Been alone for a while, or, well, without other people at least. It's been…rejuvenatin' t' my spirit." Jason smirked, and Rick smiled a little with an understanding nod. "Let's get your shirt off so I can take a look at ya. Anythin' other than your ribs botherin' you?"

 

"I was shot. In the leg. It's pretty sore," Rick answered and hissed as he rolled his shoulders to get out of the jacket pained by the simple actions and even with Daryl right there helping him it was slow going to get Rick's arms out of the sleeves. Carl was hovering over Jason's shoulder, obviously anxious, but somehow managing not to fidget. In fact, the kid looked damn near stoic. Daryl was a little impressed. He'd come a long way from the little shit he'd been back on the Greene farm. As if Daryl's thoughts of him had caught the boy's attention, Carl suddenly glanced up, meeting Daryl's appraising look with one of his own. After a minute, Carl smiled and dipped his chin a little. It was just such an adult gesture, one he and Rick had shared a million times if they'd shared it once, that Daryl found himself returning it in kind without really thinking about it. At least he and Carl had an understanding. Rick was important to both of them, and they were both going to be there for him come hell or high water. Finally able to toss the jacket aside, Daryl didn't give Rick the chance to reach for his top, shuffling until he was kneeling directly behind Rick and grabbing the hem of the white shirt he wore. The bite of the gravel into his knees was negligible with Rick's labored breathing filling his ears.

 

"Put 'em up," Daryl ordered his voice soft, and Rick slowly raised his arms enough for Daryl to gently tug the shirt up and off. He tossed the shirt neatly onto the jacket then placed his hands lightly on Rick's shoulders for support as Jason started gently prodding Rick's torso all around and even over the make-do bandage around his chest. After a long moment of silence, Jason turned to the first aid kit and pulled out the scissors.

 

"I know bindin' injured ribs was the thing t' do for the longest time, but when I went through survival trainin' they were adamant – well, they were adamant about a lot o' things – but I remember they told me that it was better t' leave them unbound an' t' jus' try an' take it easy. Bindin'em restricts your ability t' take deep enough breaths an' that can lead t' pneumonia. In this world, that's almost a death sentence."

 

Rick met the kid's eyes and nodded, giving Jason the permission he'd been looking for to remove the wrap. As he tossed the cloth aside and put the scissors away, Jason continued, "You'll need t' force yourself t' breathe deeply t' keep your lungs healthy. If it hurts jus' press the palm o' your hand against the area that's botherin' ya."

 

From there he worked in silence, using rubbing alcohol and gauze pads to wipe all of Rick's cuts and abrasions clean. When he was finished with the rubbing alcohol, he cycled back through the worst of them, smearing a thin coating of triple antibiotic over them, only bandaging the very worst of them. Daryl helped Rick back into his shirt and jacket as Jason set the ointment aside and turned a studious eye to Rick's long legs.

 

"Which leg an' where?" Jason asked obviously looking for blood stains.

 

"Carl helped me bandage that one up," Rick answered, laying a hand lightly over the wound in his thigh. "It hurts but it'll keep until we're somewhere safer."

 

Jason nodded and then looked over his shoulder to Michonne and Carl. "You two hurt at all?"

 

Both of them shook their heads. Satisfied with that, Jason repacked the first aid kit and stood, moving back to Striker's side so he could put the kit away and pull out the dried fruits and jerky. Upon seeing that, Maggie went first to Gypsy's and then to Romeo's saddlebags, pulling out the dried fruit and jerky from each of them as well as three water bottles. She handed one meal to Michonne and one to Carl both of which fell into the food with grins and enthusiastic thank yous. The water bottle she handed to Jason as he made his way by her and back to Rick who took the food and water with a grateful murmur of, "Thanks."

 

"We're gonna have t' travel in the dark a bit t' get back t' Sunnydale, but I think we should push on," Jason offered conversationally.

 

"I agree," Rick murmured and took another swig from the water bottle. Daryl settled beside him legs stretched out as he leaned back on his hands their sides just touching. Rick eased back, leaning against Daryl's shoulder and side. "The sooner we're somewhere safe, the better."

 

"And the farther away from Terminus," Carl put in, staring down at the piece of jerky in his hand.

 

Rick lifted his head at his son's words, and for a moment, he and Carl shared a long look. Daryl, to break the uncomfortable moment, reached over and snatched a little piece off the jerky in Rick's fingers. Rick looked over at him and smiled, then shoved the rest of that piece of jerky in his mouth presumably before Daryl could steal another piece. Satisfied that Rick would finish eating, Daryl leaned back on both hands again and stared off into the distance. Apparently, whatever they'd seen of the supposed sanctuary hadn't been pretty. Given that they'd found the trio back on this end of the city, they'd probably been trying to get the hell outta dodge when they'd gotten pinned down by the herd of Walkers. With Rick unable to run, they'd probably been at a loss as to how to get away. Daryl figured he owed Dundee bits of his dinners or maybe his own fat squirrel a coupla times a week for a good long while because, without that dog, they might never have found Rick. Or Carl and Michonne.

 

When they'd eaten their fill, Michonne and Maggie packed up the leftovers into the proper saddlebags while Jason and Daryl helped Rick get back to his feet. Jason offered Rick some pain killers which the man downed gratefully with the rest of his bottled water. Then it was everybody getting back on the horses and striking out for their temporary home base. Rick settled both arms around Daryl's waist, and despite the fact that they weren't galloping around at breakneck speeds, Daryl grabbed Rick's wrist again anyway. Every point of contact was that much more reassurance that Rick was real. That he was there. That they were so much closer to being a whole family again. They just had to find Glenn then everything would be okay again. Thanks to Beth and Rick…Daryl genuinely believed that.

 

\----------

 

Jason hadn't been far off, guessing they wouldn't reach the church until after nightfall. It was probably damn near midnight, and to be honest, Daryl was so god damned tired he'd almost nodded off once or twice on the last leg of the journey back to the church. Rick had outright fallen asleep, and Daryl found the warm presence behind him comforting. It was Rick at his back after all, and even though he was wounded and weary, Daryl still felt infinitely less exposed with Rick right there with him.

 

The church was dark and still when it came into view, but Dundee trotted right up the steps and sat by the door, watching the horses as they slowly ambled their way up to the church steps. Daryl was learning to trust the dog so he didn't question or caution when Jason rode right up to the stair and ground tied Striker before sliding off.

 

"Rick." Keeping his voice gentle, Daryl gently applied pulsing pressure to the wrist his fingers were still wrapped around. He'd been afraid to let go once Rick had nodded off, worried that the other man might slip off if he did. Rick stirred, and Daryl murmured, "We're there."

 

Sitting back a little, Rick pulled one arm from around Daryl's waist and let out a few sleepy sounds. Daryl could just picture him rubbing one-handed at first his eyes then the bridge of his nose before finally scrubbing his palm over his entire face. "Sorry. Can't believe I passed out on ya like that."

 

"It's nothin'. You looked like fuckin' hell. Probably needed it." Daryl pulled gently on the reins to stop Romeo next to Striker. Jason was already walking up the steps with Carl at his side. At some point during their ride back, Jason and Carl had struck up a quiet but enthusiastic conversation about some comic book something or another. Daryl had mostly ignored them. Michonne and Maggie had spent the time planning ways to find Glenn, but Daryl had left them to it, knowing they'd share anything of value tomorrow when they went over a map. Daryl's focus had been counting the breaths of the man behind him unable to turn his mind away from the almost mantra of _'He's okay. We're okay. He's alive and here, and I am never lettin' you outta my sight again, you unlucky fucker._ '

 

Daryl swung his right leg over Romeo's neck again – a feat with his crossbow hanging against his chest instead of his back – and slid to the ground. Immediately, he adjusted the crossbow back onto his back then turned and reached up, helping Rick ease himself to the ground. Untying the lead rope from the horse's breast collar one handed took a minute and a little finagling with Rick leaning heavily on him, but Daryl refused to leave either unattended. Once Romeo was "tied," Daryl adjusted himself around Rick's stiff body until he had an arm around his waist and one of Rick's arms over his shoulders. Luckily, it seemed most of Rick's discomfort was on his right side allowing Daryl the use of his left arm without hurting him much. Silently they eased their way up the steps, following Maggie and Michonne in through the open door.

 

Carl wasted no time in approaching them with Judith in his arms as Daryl eased Rick down on one of the nearest pews. Rick's face as he took her was something Daryl would remember to his dying days. Proud, loving father, relief and happiness... everything he'd wanted for Carol when he'd looked so hard for Sophia. He knew he couldn't save them all, but he was deeply, deeply glad that he had managed at least this. A different kind of burn settled behind his eyes, and he squinted, rubbing nonchalantly at his nose and willing the overwhelming emotions back into the corner of himself where he could manage them. Merle had always run him down for being overly emotional. One would think he'd have gotten a better fuckin' handle on it all by now. Rick, however, seemed determined to shatter that control because he reached over and tugged at Daryl's wrist, pulling him down on the pew while Carl settled on Rick's other side. The former Sheriff's deputy was murmuring to the sleepy little girl blinking in his arms, and Daryl felt his heart constrict a little at the words. "Hey there, sweetheart. What a brave girl you've been. You've had quite an adventure with Auntie Carol and Uncle Daryl, I hear. Your big brother Carl an' Daddy had an adventure too. With Auntie Michonne. Daddy's so glad you’re okay. I love you."

 

Rick kissed her forehead, and Judith smiled a sleepy smile then yawned. She rested her downy little head on Rick's shoulder. It was clear that she didn't understand a word Rick was saying, but his tone of voice spoke of love and reassurance, and that was enough for her. Daryl couldn't help reaching out and smoothing a hand over her wispy crown. Rick glanced over at him and smiled softly. Suddenly, the whole scene seemed intensely intimate and domestic. It twisted the part of him that bred insecurity awake, the part of him that sounded like Merle, and it made him wonder what the hell he thought he was doing, cuddling up with Rick like this and invading the man's private reunion with his daughter. Daryl didn't even make it halfway to his feet when Rick snagged his thigh, pushing down.

 

"I'm not gonna force you t' stay." Rick's voice was a low husky murmur, and while he wasn't even looking directly at Daryl, he knew he had Rick's full attention. It was the same intensity that had been directed at him countless times in the past, an intensity that sent a little thrill through him every single time, but this time...it felt different. That thrill was more of an electric tingle up his spine with Rick's fingertips digging into the meat of Daryl's thigh. Rick wasn't asking him to back him as their leader this time. "But I'd like it if you did."

 

This time he was asking Daryl to do something more. Be something more. Daryl wasn't quite sure what that something more entailed, but he'd made his decision a long time ago. It was Rick and this group first. Not himself. Not Merle's memory. Nothing was more important than his new family. So, whatever it was Rick wanted, whatever Rick needed, he'd get it until it either got in the way of that or Daryl found himself unable to give it.

 

Narrowed eyes flicked over to Carl, and the boy smiled sleepily. There was no judgment in his expression. Just open affection. Daryl looked down at Judith, asleep in her dad's arms, and then finally looked to Rick again. Rick finally looked over then leaned toward him. Compelled by the look in Rick's bright blue eyes, Daryl met him halfway, resting their heads together. The fingers on his thigh tightened once and then relaxed, remaining there as the two of them turned their attention back to Judith. Daryl felt it when Carl leaned in against Rick's other side. It was the most powerful family moment Daryl had ever experienced. He found himself unable to resist slipping his own fingers around the ones resting on his thigh, holding on tight because it felt like he was drowning. Rick just gave his hand a comforting squeeze. Daryl pulled his arm up from between them, hating the way it was pinned, and laid it along the back of the pew over Rick's shoulders. Rick didn't seem to mind at all. Daryl tentatively allowed his hand to settle on Carl's bare head and, to Daryl's surprise, the boy burrowed closer at the touch.

 

Around them, the rest of their group bustled about. Carol was sorting supplies and packs on the floor in the middle aisle. Lizzie and Mika were presumably asleep somewhere among the pews. Jason and Michonne were pushing some of the pews in the other row around, making a pen to put the horses up in a corner inside where they'd be safe from stray Walkers. Beth and Maggie were already bringing the horses through the door one by one and removing their tack with practiced ease. Sasha and Bob were looking over what Daryl presumed was a map up on the altar. It was peaceful and soothing, and absolutely everything he and Beth had hoped for when they'd been so lost just after the fall of the prison. She'd talked endlessly about reuniting with their group, and Daryl hadn't had a choice but to listen. After a while, though, he'd started to want everything she talked about, the desire warring with his ingrained pessimistic nature as his would-be natural optimism often did. And wasn't he just a fucked up headcase? It was a good thing Beth had ended up right in the end. Daryl wasn't sure he could have emotionally survived another let down like Sophia's Turning.

 

As if his thoughts of her had caught her attention, Beth appeared beside him with a few blankets in hand. "Here," she whispered and smiled when Rick looked up at her. "For Judith and Carl."

 

Daryl released Rick's hand and reached up, taking one of the blankets for the baby. Beth moved over and tucked the other one around Carl's shoulders. Carl stirred, half-woke and slid down, coming to rest with his head on his father's thigh. The change allowed Rick to sit up straighter. It was obvious his ribs were bugging him again when he tipped his head back, resting it on Daryl's arm for a moment while he took a few slow, deep breaths, face pinched and a little sweaty. When the pain seemed to have eased, he gently adjusted Judith until she was lying mostly in Daryl's lap with her head on Rick's other thigh. Daryl covered her with the blanket once she was settled.

 

"Beth." The girl froze two steps away from them and turned to face him with her head tilted. It was a look Daryl had become familiar with during their time together. "Can y'bring some more o' them pain killers over here. An' some water."

 

She grinned. "No problem, Daryl. I'll be right back."

 

"Thank you," Rick murmured. Beth smiled and stepped forward, leaning in to kiss first Rick's forehead then Carl, Judith and Daryl's.

 

"You're welcome," Beth whispered back then moved back to where Jason, Michonne and Maggie were going through what was left in the saddlebags. Daryl watched over his shoulder as she quietly asked Jason for the pain meds and took the bottle of water Maggie offered her, then returned to them. Rick nodded to her and took the pills, finishing half the bottle of water as Beth headed back over to her sister's side. The other half he offered to Daryl, who took the bottle and finished it off, tucking the empty between his thigh and the end of the pew so he wouldn't wake the kids throwing it.

 

The doors to the church were closed up tight. For now, they were about as secure as they'd get out here in the world. Tomorrow they'd come up with a plan for finding Glenn and getting everyone back to the Homestead. For now, Daryl was content to bask in the serenity of having the people he held most dear close around him. Rick sat stroking Carl's hair as the boy slept. His other hand was lying lightly on Judith's chest. His shoulder pressed tight into the soft front of Daryl's shoulder, and his arm pressed into Daryl's side. Daryl dropped his hand onto the other man's shoulder from the back of the pew. He wasn't certain what Rick's endgame was, snuggling up to him like this, but he did know that no matter what, he'd do everything in his power to keep their leader whole, happy and safe. Lori, when she'd been alive, had done a piss poor job of taking care of her husband, too wrapped up in her own problems and Shane to see that he needed to share some of the burden of leadership with someone. She'd been a terrible chief's wife, not to speak ill of the dead. Somewhere in all that had happened during the search for Sophia and dealing with their first non-Walker, completely human threat, Daryl had vowed that he would see to it himself that the man they depended on to lead them would be able to do so to the best of his ability. That meant sharing some of the man's burdens, and Daryl had been doing just that since that night at the Greene farm when he'd taken the revolver from him and kindly put Dale down. And he would continue to do so.

 

The weight of Rick's head tipping onto his shoulder roused Daryl from his thoughts. Apparently, the fatigue of the last few days had caught up with him again. Daryl smirked. Rick, apparently, snored. Tiny, little sounds rattling out of his nose. At least he didn't snore like Merle. Settling in, Daryl closed his eyes. Morning wasn't far off, and they had a long trip back. He knew he should at least try to get some sleep.

 

\----------

 

A gentle hand on his shoulder woke him the next morning. He opened bleary eyes to the familiar sight of Beth leaning over him. Apparently, sometime during the night, he and Rick had slumped further and further into each other. Carl had moved himself at some point to the other end of the pew, resting his feet against his father's hip. Judith had been taken from them, but Daryl's lap was still warm, so it had to have only been recently, probably to feed her. Rick stirred and blinked drowsily then groaned as he moved to sit up. Beth was ready with pills and a water bottle in hand. Rick took them gratefully, offering Daryl the other half of the water bottle when he'd finished. Daryl took the water with a small nod of gratitude and finished it off.

 

"Everyone's starting to get up," Beth told them. "We're going to have a meeting over breakfast about what to do next and where everyone's been. Carol wanted to let you guys sleep more but Jason wanted to include you both for the whole thing. Maggie asked me to get you guys up."

 

"Thank you. We appreciate you takin' the time. Judith have breakfast already?" Rick responded, always remembering his manners. It was clearly part of his charm because Beth seemed drawn to Rick's propriety the same way she was drawn to the cute and cuddly or the broken and needy. It probably reminded her of Hershel and home.

 

"Yes, she did, an' she gobbled down some banana baby food like a perfect lil piggy." Beth and Rick were both grinning, each of them just ecstatic over any good news regarding Judith. He loved that little girl like she was his own, but it was too early in the morning for all the good cheer. It was getting too sappy for him, so Daryl stood and stretched, back popping.

 

"I'm gonna go take a piss," he informed them and made his way to the back rooms of the church for some privacy. A small part of him couldn't believe he'd spent the whole night peacefully sleeping beside Rick Grimes like they were a happy little nuclear family. Another part of him, a part that he didn't spend much time looking at, felt warm, fuzzy and wanted. Rick had, after all, insisted that he stay right there with him as he'd cooed to his baby girl and bonded more with his boy. Just what that meant, Daryl wasn't too sure. Thinking about it, Beth had gotten under his skin deeper than just about anybody but Rick during their time together on the run. Honestly, he saw her as the little sister he'd never had. Maybe he was just learning to be a little more open. A little more like the people around him. A little less like the red neck asshole he'd once been. A little less stuck in Merle's shadow. And Rick had been pretty physically close with Shane when Shane had still been considered a best friend and not a threat to Rick's family. They'd hugged, hung close and stayed near each other until Shane's crumbling sanity, weakening morality and obsession with Lori and the unborn baby had driven a wedge between them. Maybe Rick was just asking Daryl to fill that void in his life.

 

"You're sure takin' your time."

 

Startled, Daryl looked over his shoulder, embarrassed to have been caught zoning out with his dick still out. "Shut the fuck up," he snapped but he kept his tone light as he tucked himself away and zipped back up. Rick chuckled and came to stand beside him like they were in a public restroom.

 

Daryl started to step away, feeling awkward, when Rick stopped him in his tracks by softly asking, "You okay?"

 

He stopped, but didn't turn around. Rick was clearly relieving himself, and Daryl didn't want to be the creepy guy that stared at a dude while he pissed. So he stared at the empty cross hanging on the wall instead. "Yeah, man. We're good. I'm good."

 

Rick finished and zipped himself up, turning and moving to stand directly in front of Daryl, who met him stare for stare. After a moment, Rick seemed satisfied with what he saw and lifted a hand to the back of Daryl's neck, pulling him close until their foreheads touched. Daryl found himself unable to resist, heart pounding. "Good. Because I still need you with me."

 

"I ain' goin' nowhere." It was a soft little whisper of a vow made in a voice gruff from years of smoking and drinking and throwing around a healthy redneck attitude. Rick's hand tightened on the back of his neck and the other man closed his eyes, obviously relishing the contact. After a minute, Rick released him, clapped his shoulder, and slowly made his way back toward the main hall. Daryl stared after him.

 

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I want to thank everyone who has reviewed but most especially I want to thank my bestie KerrKerr for her awesomeness and support, Minako Mikoto on FF.net for being my first awesome-reviewer and kat-valkyrian on Tumblr for fangirling at me yesterday and totally making my day! You guys rock!!

Someone had found some kids' Crayola markers and used them to colorfully divide the map they were looking at into four rough grid sections. Notes, like the location of the burned out moonshine still, had been added in black pen. Daryl ran a finger over his lower lip as he studied the map with all of its additions. They'd already covered a lot of ground. Things didn't look good for Glenn, much as Daryl hated to think that way.

 

"There's still plenty o' ground t' cover. He could be anywhere; in the places we haven't looked or even the places we have," Rick said into the contemplative silence that had fallen once they'd all told the tales of their adventures and filled the map out. Daryl glanced up, thumbnail between his teeth and followed Rick's line of sight to Maggie. "Maggie, we _will_ find him. He's a resourceful guy. I don't doubt that he's still alive an' out there lookin' _just_ as hard for you."

 

Maggie's mouth thinned, and she nodded, her expression determined. "I know."

 

Jason cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention. He met Maggie's eyes, and his tone was earnest as he said, "Findin' Glenn is the most important thing we have t' do right now."

 

Maggie nodded, sniffled, and then offered a soft, "But."

 

Jason sighed. He looked like someone who didn't like having to say what he was about to say but felt obligated to say it anyway. Daryl felt a little bad for the kid. At least he wasn't looking quite as tired and world worn around the eyes as he had when Daryl had first met him. Apparently, being around people did wonders for people's general health. "We've got children. A baby. We're low on supplies an' ammunition. This church isn't exactly the safest place available t' us right now. And…I've been away from home too long. It's been almost a week as it is. I've never left it unguarded this long, an' by the time we make it back, I'll have been gone over a week. The animals need tendin', an' we can't afford t' lose any o' them with so many mouths t' feed now. We're no good t' Glenn if we're run down, starvin' or have no home t' return to."

 

Maggie looked stricken, torn between agreement and denial. Jason looked just as stricken for having to have said it. She looked to Rick as they all did in that moment, as they did in every moment like this since Rick had come into their group. Rick met just Maggie's eyes, giving her the attention she deserved in this situation. His gaze was steady on hers for several heartbeats before he looked to Daryl. Daryl met that gaze like he always did. In that first moment of eye contact, he could see Rick's thoughts written plainly in the lines of his face. The man agreed with Jason for all that it killed him to lose time that should be used to look for Glenn. Daryl dipped his chin once, and Rick, seeing the agreement in that small gesture, turned his attention back to the group. "How long will it take us t' get back t' the Homestead?"

 

Jason leaned forward and placed his finger on Sunnydale. "We're here." Dragging his finger along the railroad they'd followed and then off into the woods, he finally brought his fingertip to rest over a place deep in the wooded foothills. "The Homestead is here. If we go that route, it'll take about three t' four days, dependin' on the movement of the local Walkers, herds an' how fast we can push with the little ones. It took three t' six o' us about two an' a half days t' get this far, but we didn't have kids an' everyone was mounted. The horses can't carry alla us an' being on foot makes for a longer, tougher journey."

 

Rick's eyes were fixed on Jason's finger. Daryl could see his mind just churning with what ifs. This place had been so close to the prison, and they'd never been any the wiser. How much easier would their lives have been had they'd known? How many more of them would still be alive had they been able to join up with Jason in some fashion or another earlier on?

 

"Sounds like a plan." Daryl said softly, intentionally pulling Rick out of his tail-chasing thoughts. Rick glanced at him. It was the littlest of looks, but the gratitude in it was loud as a shout.

 

"So, it's settled. We'll get back t' the Homestead as quickly as we safely can, then head back out t' look for Glenn once we've taken care o' thangs." He looked to Maggie again, his expression reassuring. "We'll look as much as we can on the trip. Maybe leave some notes. Direct Glenn back here. We can leave some supplies behind for him in case he makes it here."

 

Daryl watched as Maggie nodded. Her lower lip trembled just a little, but Beth laid a gentle hand on her arm and the Greene sisters shared a long, determined look.

 

"Daryl." Rick's voice snapped Daryl's attention back to him, and Rick gave him a small reassuring smile as he nodded toward the back of the church. "Mind if I have a word?"

 

A shake of Daryl's head was the only answer Rick needed. Expecting Daryl to follow, he turned and slowly made his way down the main aisle. He moved slow and used the pews for extra support along the way. As he trailed Rick, Daryl watched him carefully, ready to help him if he started to really struggle. Rick didn't need to be coddled, but Daryl would be there to lend a shoulder or elbow if Rick looked like he needed it. Halfway down the aisle, Rick turned and eased himself onto the end of a pew. Daryl stepped forward, and Rick looked up at him.

 

"What do we know about this guy? Jason." Daryl had been expecting something like this. Rick was nothing if not thorough these days. You had to give the guy credit; he learned from his mistakes.

 

"He's alrigh'," Daryl answered and glanced back at the others who were pouring over the map again. They were too busy being thorough themselves to pay the two of them much attention. "He's done right by me an' Beth. The others seem fine wit' him."

 

Rick nodded. "He answer the questions?"

 

"No." Feeling a little like an idiot for failing to have thought to ask those three important questions, no matter how messed up he'd been at the time, Daryl offered, "He killed four live men t' save me an' Beth. Sum bitch's a mean shot with a rifle. Doesn't seem t' mind killin' the Walkers when he has to. Doesn't go lookin' for trouble. Didn't hesitate t' march his ass right back out here with us t' look for y'all."

 

Long fingers ran through short curls one hand coming to rest at the back of his neck as Rick mulled over Daryl's words. After a long moment he dipped his chin, accepting Daryl's judgment and folding his hands in front of his knees as he leaned forward on his thighs. "You've been t' this homestead." It was more a statement then a question, but Daryl nodded anyway. "What are we lookin' at? How secure is it?"

 

"It's defensible," he began, choosing his words carefully. "Not much we can do t' make it more so… other than patrols. Place is like a fuckin' supermarket. It's a lot more civilized than anythin' we've had in a long ass time."

 

"What d'you mean by civilized?" Rick asked his tone curious.

 

Before he could answer, Carol came over to them and gestured back to the others. Daryl followed the gesture, seeing that Maggie and Beth were finishing tacking up the horses and that the rest of the group was waiting by the front doors. Each of them carried a backpack of supplies that they'd managed to round up. "We're almost ready to go. The horses and everything. If you're ready."

 

Getting slowly to his feet, Rick eased himself almost straight and put a hand on Daryl's shoulder to steady himself. "Thank you, Carol. The supplies we're leavin' for Glenn in place?"

 

Carol nodded. "We put the pack behind the altar. Maggie figured he'd be smart enough to look about for stuff if we're sending him directly here."

 

The hand on Daryl's shoulder slipped down to grip the inside of his bicep right above the elbow. "Good. Let's get goin' then."

 

Carol nodded and wandered back to others who were now leading the horses out of the church. Together Rick and Daryl made their way to the front doors. Daryl only paused long enough to pick up his crossbow from by the bench he'd slept on, hefting it by the strap one-handed onto the shoulder that wasn't bearing a good deal of Rick's weight at the moment. They'd either end up talking later on during the trip, or Rick would just have to see for himself what the Homestead had to offer them. He'd understand better just seeing it for himself anyway.

 

\----------

 

The trip took them the full four days that Jason had predicted. Stopping to leave notes for Glenn with spray paint they'd found at the feed store in Sunnydale had taken up some of the time, but they'd also run into a large Walker herd and been forced to take shelter off the tracks in the woods. If not for Dundee, they'd have never known the herd was coming toward them on the tracks and would have probably been overrun. It had taken a while for all of the strays to straggle on their way, setting them back almost half a day. Jason had used the time to change the bandages on Rick and Bob's gunshot wounds. The methodical care he gave the other men's injuries kept the scent of blood and infection masked in disinfectant, fresh ointment and new bandages, so it wasn't a total waste of time. The Walkers were that much less likely to notice them. When the coast was clear, they moved on themselves.

 

Not for the first time since they'd started this trip, Daryl found himself thankful that the people he now called family were so god damned tough. Maybe not as tough as Merle, but each of them had beaten the odds over and over. Beth had been right before, thinking he looked at them and saw little more than dead people walking. Now, though… after the prison, he saw these people as almost as capable of survival as himself.

 

The thought urged him to seek the sight of Beth out, and she looked up at him when she felt his gaze on her, smiling down from Gypsy's saddle where she carried Judith with Mika behind her. Bob, like Daryl and Jason, had insisted on walking. When Maggie, Carol and Sasha had insisted they would be walking as well they had loaded Striker with beach bags and backpacks of supplies as well as two bags of grain, also taken from Sunnydale's feed store, and the nameless little town where Rick, Carl and Michonne had spent some time recuperating until they'd been run out by a group of suspicious looking men.

 

Rick had conceded to ride rather than slow the group down, and Lizzie sat silently behind him on Romeo. Apparently, Rick's ribs had been bad but not unbearable until their flight from Terminus' gates. Daryl ground his teeth as Carl recounted how terrified he'd been, thinking his dad was going to die over and over throughout their flight from the insanity they'd seen outside the gates of what was supposed to sanctuary for all…but only if you had an offering for the would-be god that ran the place. Carl had insisted that of all the moments, only two of them had really put his heart in his throat. The first had happened when it had been just he and Rick, before Michonne had found them. Carl had thought Rick had died and Turned just days after the fall of the prison. The second had happened when they'd been almost overwhelmed by a small herd inside the city outside of Terminus. They'd sought shelter in an apartment building, breaking into a lightless stairwell, and Rick had been tripped by a Crawler, the upper half of a Walker that was still mobile enough to be a pain in the ass, plunging down a flight of stairs into a thankfully empty apartment basement. Michonne had dispatched the thing, and they'd managed to wait out the herd's aimless shambling before making a break for it. They'd been forced in various directions by the sheer number of Walkers in the city until they'd finally hunkered down in the rail car Daryl, Maggie and Jason had rescued them from. Apparently the Walkers they'd avoided had followed the fresh scent of Rick's untended and oozing wounds, pinning them in place by the time they'd woken.

 

"It's gonna take more than that to kill your dad," Maggie had reassured Carl. Daryl felt inclined to agree, but knowing that Rick was a tough bastard didn't make hearing about the man's repeated near death experiences any easier to bear. In fact, he was damn near grateful when Maggie and Sasha began to tell their own harrowing tale of facing down a drifting herd in fog so thick you could hardly see your hand at the end of your arm with an injured Bob narrowly missing a Bite because of his bandages. The stories helped to pass the time at least. Well enough that it was a little surprising when they finally reached the high-tension barbed wire fencing toward mid-afternoon on that fourth day.

 

Jason called a stop and moved off the dirt track they'd been following to touch each of the four strands to the left and then did the same to the ones on the right of the two strand gate. He seemed satisfied with whatever he'd been testing and pulled the tension hooks free of their loops, allowing the group to pass. Daryl helped him move the section of pike fence they'd gone through before, then left Jason to re-secure it behind them so he could help Rick out of the saddle. Once Rick was steady on his feet, Daryl turned and reached up for Judith. The little girl tipped toward him eagerly, almost tumbling out of Beth's arms and making both Beth and Daryl scramble to secure her.

 

"She knows her momma," Beth teased, once the little girl was safe in his arms. The words stopped Daryl cold. For the first time in years, he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Merle's voice rose out of the dark depths of his subconscious, the asshole's ghost taking advantage of Daryl's suddenly off-kilter psyche, whispering, _'See there, baby brother. And you thought they respected you, didn't you? You're more of an idiot than I ever thought._ '

 

Judith seemed to sense something wasn't right and whimpered, tugging hard on a lock of Daryl's hair. It forced him to look at her and he grunted in pain, catching her hand. Carefully, he untangled her fingers from the strands, and pulled the girl closer. Who gave a shit if she thought of him like a mother? It didn't make him any less of a man. Merle's ghost could go fuck itself with its man's world ideas. Shit was so fucked up these days that up was down and down was sideways. Family was family. Either way and any way. Maggie chose that moment to speak up, tossing the light and amused words over her shoulder as she helped Lizzie then Mika down, "Well, he was the first one to feed her. She probably views him a little like that. She definitely imprinted on him."

 

As if from a distance, Daryl heard himself ask, "Imprinted?" It sounded serious. Committed.

 

"It's something all babies do," Maggie answered, patting his shoulder as she passed by him on the way to take Striker's reins back from Bob. She and Beth were blessedly oblivious to how shaken he was by the implication that this little girl was _that_ emotionally dependent on him.

 

Beth slid down from Gypsy's back and pulled the reins over the horse's head, adding, "It just means she recognizes you as part of her core family. She doesn't understand concepts like mom is a girl and dad is a guy yet."

 

Judith giggled and clapped her hands together, happy to be the focus of Daryl's attention throughout the exchange of the girls' thoughts around him. The happy sound, bright and merry, seemed to banish the looming dark presence of his brother's memory, the last of it fading as Rick's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

 

"They're just trying to tell you that she loves you," the other man murmured, squeezing the muscle under his hand. Daryl felt the sudden tension brought on by Beth's playfully thoughtless words ease under that gentle touch. These people were nothing like Merle or his father. They weren't here to degrade him or make him feel like less than an equal. It was hard sometimes to remember that.

 

Jason cleared his throat from over by the gate, his hand on the latch and handle, having unlocked all of the padlocks during the exchange. "Welcome home, folks," he cheerfully announced when everyone looked his way and pushed the door open. Everyone then looked to Rick and Daryl. Carl came to stand at his father's other side and tugged at Rick's hand. Rick glanced at Daryl and Judith and then moved toward the gate led by Carl. Daryl fell into step beside him, slipping through the gate behind him with a small nod to Jason on the way through. On the other side, Rick took a few steps forward and then stopped.

 

Daryl remembered how overwhelmed he and Beth had been seeing the Homestead for the first time in the dead of night. Even looking at it now, after having seen it in the light of day on their way out to find the others, it was still awe-inspiring. Even before the Turn, a place like this would have wowed outsiders looking in just for the sheer dedication that had to have gone into it to make it what it was: a little piece of serenity in the chaos of a crazy world. The horses coming through the gate behind them whinnied and were answered by the other horses that had come up to the fence beside the horse barn directly across the dirt lot they stood in. Rick took everything in with a slow sweeping look about him. To the right lay the open garden, bushy with growth and the glass walled pair of green houses behind it. Daryl watched him take in the size of the horse barn and smirked as Rick covered his mouth to try and contain how overwhelmed he was as goats started trotting toward them from around the buildings and fences before them. Cows bellowed from the back of the property and a rooster crowed from off beyond the house and pole barn to their left.

 

Mika rushed by them, squealing about the goats who happily greeted her with nibbling lips and interested noses. Maggie barked a startled laugh and hugged Beth tight, overjoyed and relieved. Beth was grinning at him when Daryl swung around to take in the expressions on the faces of the people behind him. Bob and Sasha were looking around them in awe enormous grins on their tired faces. Carl was laughing, running around with Mika as the goats bounded around them, kicking up their heels in glee. The only face in the crowd that seemed untouched by the relief of safety and readily acquired food and water was Lizzie. Daryl watched as the girl stared down at a brown and white goat while it sniffed her shirt. She made no move to touch the animal as the other children had, and Daryl made a mental note to have a conversation with Rick about the girl as soon as the opportunity arose. The goat sneezed, startling Lizzie, and shook its head before turning and setting its sights on Daryl. Crouching down to one knee, he presented Judith to the goat by sitting her on his other knee and smirked as the baby girl giggled, patting at the goat's cheeks as it nibbled on her shirt.

 

Jason chuckled as he looked up from latching the last padlock on the gate. "Goats like children cuz they play better than adults do. Just to put your minds at ease, the defenses go all the way around this place. I've been thinking of it as the main compound, the crop fields being secondary. The pike fence and fort walls only surround the area we house the animals and people in. The farm fields are beyond the wall at the back and are only fenced with the four strand tension wire, all of it barbed like you saw. Walkers can't exactly hurt the hay."

 

"This is amazing, Jason," Maggie exclaimed and looked at Sasha when the other women said, "We're set for life. I can't believe it. After everything…we're finally gonna be okay."

 

Daryl looked about him as each person gushed about their group's stroke of luck. The goat that had been interested in Judith had wandered off to chase Carl and Mika as they played some kind of game of tag with the rest of the goat herd. Standing, he adjusted the baby in his arms so that she stayed facing away from his chest, allowing her to watch the goats, Carl and Mika. Rick was still staring around him almost in a state of shock. Deciding it was time to bring him back to them, Daryl moved over to stand at his shoulder and murmured, "Y'think this is somethin', wait'll you see the house."

 

Rick looked over at him and grinned, practically falling on him to hug him close. Delighted that she was being squished between them, Judith let out a squealing giggle and grabbed at her daddy's fuzzy coat collar. Unable to do much with Judith in his arms, Daryl froze. Rick laughed into the side of his neck, sounding a little choked up, and it was _that_ noise that swayed Daryl to lean into the other man as he was squeezed.

 

"Why don't you take Rick an' the baby inside, Daryl?" Jason offered, as he moved over to them. Rick pulled away, but the action seemed reluctant. "Beth an' I can show the others around an' get the animals taken care of an' whatnot. I'm sure Rick wants t' take a shower an' get into some clean clothes."

 

"I do, thank you." Rick's voice was rough and earnest as he reached out to shake Jason's hand again. Daryl couldn't help the little moment of déjà vu when Rick asked in a disbelieving tone, "There's running water in this place?"

 

Jason glanced over at Daryl with an almost conspiratorial smirk. "One better," he repeated. " _Hot_ running water."

 

Rick's grin at that was so damn near blinding that Daryl found himself having to look away as his chest tightened a bit. Judith squirmed and kicked her feet, tipping her head back to stare up at Daryl. He looked down at her and smirked. "Wanna take a bath, Judith?" he asked. Judith just stared at him, smiling. When he looked up, Jason was already moving on with the rest of the group. Rick stood watching him and Lil Asskicker with an extremely fond expression on his face. A diaper bag had magically appeared in his hand. Rick hefted it an inch higher, but stopped when his ribs twinged. His wince was an obvious tell.

 

"Carol said there's a change o' clothes and a few diapers in here," Rick told him. "We'll get her cleaned up first."

 

"Okay." Daryl turned and started toward the house, Rick easily falling into step beside him even with the diaper bag because Daryl made sure to keep his steps measured and slow. Once they were inside the house, Winchester and Riversong greeted them tails wagging furiously. Rick laid a gentle hand on the Labrador's head as the Shepherd sat near the base of the stairs to watch them. The awe in Rick's face that there could still be such mundane things as housepets in a real house twisted Daryl's insides a bit. When Winchester came over to sniff at Judith's feet, causing the little girl to squirm and giggle delightedly, Daryl offered, "This one is Winchester. The black one is Riversong. They're friendly enough. Good dogs like Dundee."

 

Rick smirked. "Dundee's the one we travelled with, right?"

 

Daryl couldn't help but feel like Rick felt like he had figured out a little piece of the puzzle he sometimes mentioned he found Daryl to be given the knowing expression on the other man's face. It made the back of his skull and neck feel tight to be looked at with so much interest and trust. "Yeah. C'mon."

 

Rick followed him obediently, and together they passed through the den, a cozy room with plush couches and chairs, a real fire place and every wall lined with book-filled book shelves. The den opened into a short hall that led to the kitchen if you went right, the utility room if you went straight or to the master suite past a small pantry if you went left. Daryl led the way into the master suite and right through to the master bathroom. There were sinks to either side of the doorway. The toilet sat in the far left corner in its own little closet like room. The stand up shower sat in the far right corner and in the middle sat a Jacuzzi tub. Rick motioned to the sink on their right.

 

"Get the water warmin'?" he asked as he limped over to the linen shelf beside the sink he'd pointed to. Daryl nodded and stopped beside the sink, turning the faucet on. Judith immediately zeroed in on the soft hiss and splash of the cool water, staring like it was the single most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. A soft chuckle escaped him before he could stop himself when she stretched toward it, reaching with all her might to try and touch the water. Rick's hand appeared under the water so suddenly it startled the focused baby, and she looked up to her father like he'd done something magical. Rick smiled at her and after a moment of testing the water temp, he adjusted the knobs. "Go ahead and pull her dirty clothes and diaper off. This is just about right."

 

For a moment, Daryl looked at the baby in his arms and wondered what the hell he thought he was doing for the millionth time since she'd been born. The soft slap of Rick's palm on the top of the counter beside the sink basin snapped him out of his thoughts before he could really question his sanity, and Daryl obediently settled Judith on her back beside the basin where Rick had patted the marbletop. The little girl practically kicked out of her little pants, very eager to be rid of them. Her squirming over her top though had Daryl exasperated in moments. Rick just chuckled every now and then until Daryl finally growled, "Either help or shut the fuck up, asshole."

 

To which Rick replied, "But you're doin' such a fine job there, Daryl."

 

A few more muttered profanities from him, and Judith was finally bath ready. Rick took over from there, instructing Daryl by explaining the steps and safety precautions of really bathing a baby to Judith herself. Daryl watched on in silence, taking mental notes. Rick looked almost more manly caring for his daughter before he himself was settled. It was an alien concept to a redneck that had been raised in such a selfish environment as the Dixon household, and Daryl hoped that, should the need ever arise and he should have to care for Judith without someone there to help him, he would be every bit as confident as Rick was right then. Even Judith splashing him and getting him covered in suds didn't seem to faze the other man in the least. When he was draining the sink and rinsing the last of the suds from Judith's soft skin, Rick glanced over his shoulder and nodded to the towel shelf. "Grab a towel t' wrap her in once she's mostly dry would ya?"

 

Daryl picked a thick fluffy one. As soon as he turned around, he found himself with an armful of giggling baby. Daryl looked up and met Rick's bright blue eyes. The slightly taller man smiled softly and touched his baby's crown. "I've got her," Daryl said happy to take Judith for himself for a bit while Rick cleaned up. It must have showed somehow because Rick's smile turned brighter. "Go get yerself cleaned up. Ya look like a fuckin' Sasquatch that's rolled in mud or somethin'."

 

As Daryl walked out of the bathroom, Rick's chuckle followed behind him. It would have been near impossible to wipe the grin off his face. Moving over to the king size bed, Daryl laid Judith back and opened the towel so he could put her diaper on. It was a little bit of a struggle with the way she wriggled and fussed about getting redressed, but in the end, Daryl felt he'd done a presentable job getting her squared away after her bath. Cuddling the little girl to his chest, Daryl pushed the damp towel aside and hopped up to sit cross-legged on the foot of the bed. Judith was content to sit on his lap and play with his hands. She was endlessly amused by the calluses on his fingers, rubbing her soft palms back and forth over the rougher parts of his fingers and palms while he watched on in equally amused silence.

 

A soft knock on the doorjamb near startled the both of them, but Daryl relaxed the minute he saw Sasha and Jason standing in the doorway. Sasha held two boxes stacked in front of her while Jason moved into the room with a wooden frame in one hand and the string handle of a little mattress in the other. It wasn't until he turned to move the wooden frame along the wall that Daryl saw Carl was helping to carry the things in. Carl beamed at him and came over to climb up onto the bed when he'd set down his end of the frame and crib mattress so he could take Judith from Daryl's lap. He then flopped backwards on the mattress with Judith held above him.

 

"My old crib and mattress. Mom was a packrat," Jason explained when he turned and met Daryl's interested gaze. "The big box has some of my sister's husband's old things. Thought some o' them might fit you and Rick. The little box is baby clothes and toys. It's all vacuum sealed in storage bags so there's more than there seems. Should be some crib sheets in the baby box too."

 

Sasha moved forward as if on cue and set the boxes on the floor at the foot of the bed. She smiled up at Daryl when she straightened and turned, leaving the room. Daryl immediately turned his attention back to Jason, ignoring Carl's inane chattering to his baby sister. Jason looked around the room for a moment as if taking it in for the first time in a long time. "Rick can set the crib up anywhere he likes in here. Figure it's only right t' give the man o' the house the master suite. 'Sides, he's got the biggest family here. We'll have t' take the buckboard over to the Woodbury Wal-mart and see if we can't bring back a few more bed frames and mattresses. Maybe grab a bunch of clothes for you guys."

 

Watching the kid through narrowed eyes, Daryl felt a slow dawning of realization steal over him. This kid, in the span of less than a week, had acknowledged and accepted the fact that while the Homestead was ultimately his, he was turning leadership of the place over to not just Rick, but Daryl too. It was…just short of unsettling to suddenly see himself through this newcomer's eyes: the right hand man of a guy who was basically born to lead. Jason seemed to take Daryl's silent, studious gaze as a positive though and nodded. "If there's anythin' else I can get you, just let me know."

 

And then Daryl was alone with Carl and Judith. Daryl looked over his shoulder at the two. Carl had deposited Judith on the mattress behind Daryl. They were playing some kind of silent patty-cake game though Judith was mostly just slapping at Carl's hands and giggling uncontrollably. When he felt Daryl's eyes on him, Carl looked up and grinned. "I'm gonna be bunking with Jason until we figure out what the permanent room assignments are going t' be," Carl said into the quiet after Daryl had simply watched him play with Judith for a while. "He says there's an apartment in the upstairs o' the horse barn and that there are two of them above the cows, so there's plenty of room for everyone here!"

 

"Good. Means we won't be livin' on top o' each other." Carl's enthusiasm was a little much, but Daryl could get behind the sentiment he was expressing. "I can take 'er," he offered after a moment. "If you wanna get back out there an' play with Mika an' the animals."

 

Carl beamed and handed Judith to Daryl almost immediately. "Thanks, Daryl!"

 

The kid was gone in a heartbeat. The little girl looked up at Daryl like she expected him to be her entertainment now. He had just resettled her in his lap when Rick walked out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips and rubbing his hair dry with another. "What was all the commotion?"

 

Daryl dipped his chin toward the crib against the wall. "Jason brought some stuff in fer Judith. Says he's givin' you an' her this room. There's clothes fer ya both in them boxes. Baby things, too."

 

Rick moved forward and looked down at the boxes as he draped the towel over the back of his neck. Daryl offered his pocket knife, and Rick immediately took it before easing himself to his knees so that he could more easily slice the tape on the boxes so he could get a look inside. The baby things he just rifled through then set the box aside. The other box, he pulled the vacuum sealed bags out one by one, turned them over in his hands, then laid them aside. After a moment, he slit one open and a lot more clothes than Daryl would have thought possible puffed right back up to their normal appearance.

 

"Looks like there's plenty here for both o' us t' get changed. Why don't you go take a shower and when you're done we can set up the crib for Judith." Rick looked up at him, and Daryl suddenly realized that he'd been openly staring at the man in front of him. It had been sitting in the back of his mind that Rick was a good looking guy. Could probably charm the panties off a nun if he really put his mind to it, but then, just before the prison fell, he'd started looking at Daryl like he was looking at Daryl right now, and it made the redneck a little…uncomfortable though not in a way that led to screaming and fists. It was becoming pretty normal, feeling so out of his depth, but it was never as intense as it was when it was Rick making him feel like that.

 

"Okay." Daryl's voice was soft, subdued almost, and Rick seemed to take alarm at the tone. When Rick stood, Daryl handed Judith to him, stopping any questions before they'd started, and moved right on by, heading for the privacy of the bathroom. Hopefully, Rick would just let it go.

 

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I'm just posting these chapters as I finish them. I use spell check and reread them about three times before I send them to you guys, but I'll over think things too much if I sit on the chapters for too long and I think that might ruin the rhythm my muse kinda has going with these two. YAY for Rickyl!! I'll hold on to the chapters if I'm uncertain on something, but for now, if I don't feel any strong reservations about posting it, it's going up. Thus the rapid fire updates. A polite reminder: I have no grammar-beta so please excuse any mistakes.

The hot water had felt just as amazing this time as it had the last. Daryl had even allowed himself the luxury of standing under the spray just to feel the pouring water pelting against his shoulders for an extra few minutes. When he'd finally felt too guilty to stand under the soothing spray any longer, he'd turned the water off and pushed the shower door open, stepping out. The rug beneath his feet was still damp from Rick's shower and the chill of it sent a little shiver up his body. Toweling off took a matter of moments, and as he rubbed the towel over his head, he noticed a neat pile of clothes on the sink counter they'd bathed Judith at. He hadn't heard Rick come in, but it was a mighty decent thing for the other man to do, leaving clothes in here so that Daryl didn't have to go out in a towel to get them. It was a gesture that seriously made him wonder what the fuck Lori's issues with the man had been.

 

The clothes would have fit him perfectly pre-apocalypse. As it was, he pulled his belt from the filthy jeans he'd cast aside and snugged them around his hips with it. Pulling on the fabric right at the seams, he made short work of the sleeves on the blue button up then pulled it on too before slipping into his vest. Rick had even left him clean socks. Gathering up his dirty clothes, he headed back out into the bedroom.

 

Rick lay stretched out on his back on the mattress with Judith sitting up beside him. She was playing with a stuffed pony and a stuffed giraffe, mashing them together and making little noises in the back of her throat. Daryl dumped his dirty clothes on top of the pile of Judith's and Rick's by the bathroom door and moved right over to the crib. After a few moments of inspection, Daryl concluded it wouldn't be hard to set up at all. It looked like it was folded up completely intact with locking braces to both keep it together when it was being stored and to keep it open when it was set up. Store bought or homemade, it was a convenient design. Rick came up beside him while he was looking the crib over, Judith balanced on his hip. "Carl's comin' back in a minute with a play pen for her too. Apparently, Jason's mom really was a packrat." Daryl hummed in acknowledgement when Rick paused. "Look like it'll do?"

 

"Yeah. Jus' gotta get it opened up an' locked," he murmured and pulled the crib away from the wall so that he could start pulling it open. It took a little effort to push the lock braces into place, so it was probably a good thing that Rick was stuck holding the baby – not that he should really have been holding her either, but Daryl figured it was better than some of the other things Rick could be trying to do – or he would have been gettin' frustrated and even more sore. Daryl folded the mattress board down on its hinges then settled the mattress into place and looked to Rick. "Where you want it?"

 

Rick cast about the room, noting where the already present furniture was, and then nodded towards the wall by the side of the bed he'd been lying on when Daryl had come out of the bathroom. It was furthest from the door, putting the bed and its occupants between Judith and the entrance to the room. Daryl nodded. It took almost no effort to push the crib around the bed and right up against the wall.

 

"Dad!" Carl burst into the room as best he could carrying the awkwardly shaped retail box containing the promised play pen. They'd both heard him coming from down the short hall so neither of them were startled by the sudden intrusion of an over-excited fourteen year old. "You should see all the stuff here! Jason's got _draft_ horses! They're _huge_. Like way bigger than Flame. There's a smokehouse an' chickens an' turkeys an' cows! There's even real farm equipment, an' it's run by the _horses_! We don't have t' worry about gas anymore!"

 

Daryl glanced from the boy to his father. For the first time since they'd been forced off the Greene farm, Rick looked like the man he'd been when he'd first joined the group. It helped that he'd shaved, of course, but it was the delighted expression that bordered on relief that really made the difference. Daryl knew what he was thinking, too. _'Finally, Carl can be a kid again_.' Rick smiled just as brightly as his son and nodded toward the wall. "Why don't you set that down an' get back out there? That way you can give me an' your baby sister the grand tour tomorrow."

 

Carl promptly turned, set the box down against the same wall he'd propped the crib against, and then took off back down the hall. Rick chuckled. Daryl turned away from the sight of Rick staring after his boy with that incredibly fond, paternal expression on his face so that he could pick up a sheet set. Apparently, Rick had freed all of the baby stuff from its vacuum wrap while Daryl had been in the shower. By the time Rick tore himself away from contemplatively staring after Carl, Daryl had the fitted sheet on the mattress and a little pillow in a pillow case in place. He was looking between the giraffe and pony stuffed animals that Judith had been playing with earlier, trying to figure out which one should go in the crib, when Rick moved over beside him. "Put 'em both in. No reason not to."

 

Daryl glanced at him as Rick lowered Judith, who was looking about ready to pass out, into the crib. As soon as Rick was out of the way, Daryl leaned in and set the giraffe and pony on either side of her. She turned her head sleepily from side to side to look at each of them then turned to face the pony, pulling it close. A nudge on his arm startled him not a moment later. He looked over to Rick feeling a little guilty for staring at the man's kid, even if she was the cutest baby he'd ever laid eyes on. Rick pushed something towards him, and the movement made Daryl look down to the baby quilt in Rick's hand. Confused, Daryl looked up again only for Rick to smile at him encouragingly. "Go ahead. Tuck her in. You don't get t' spend near enough quality time with her, an' I reckon now's a good time t' start."

 

"Nah," he tried to decline only to have the blanket pushed toward him again. Rick didn't look like he was giving up. Silently, feeling a little nervous and worrying about waking her up since it'd almost always been Rick or Beth or Carol's job to see Lil Asskicker to sleep, Daryl took the quilt. Carefully, he laid it over her. Judith remained completely oblivious, and after a moment, Daryl felt compelled to push the edges of the blanket a little closer to her tiny body, hoping to tuck in some body heat. There was an unexplainable feeling of warmth in his chest as he settled his hands on the rail of the crib. An arm suddenly slinging around his shoulders pulled his attention away from her before he had time to sort it out, and Rick hugged him tight to his side.

 

Rick kept his voice soft as he said, "Let's go see about dinner."

 

Daryl allowed himself to be steered out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. Once they were there, Rick stopped and pulled his arm from around Daryl's shoulders, putting one hand on his hip as the other scratched his newly shaven chin. If Daryl didn't know better, he'd have figured Rick was savoring the appearance of a clean, functional kitchen. Then Rick's eyes lit on the refrigerator and narrowed, and Daryl _knew_ he'd been admiring the kitchen.

 

"Is…that thang on?"

 

Grinning, Daryl swaggered to the fridge and pulled open the door so he could reach in. Pulling out two seal and latch bottles of beer, he offered one to Rick as the man followed him over. "Yep. Kid's got some home brewed shit that's pretty damn good too."

 

Daryl immediately popped his bottle open and held the lid out of the way as he took his first swig. His eyes never left Rick as the other man popped the lid off his own bottle and took a small sampling sip of his own. It was hard not to stare as Rick licked his lips, chasing the little taste he'd taken.

 

"No shit," Rick murmured after a moment, looking at the bottle in his hand like he couldn't believe it was real. Clearly surprised by the quality of the beer, he eagerly took another, longer pull from the bottle. The sound of the front door opening and lots of feet tramping into the house broke the moment.

 

Daryl startled when the screen door banged open, the sound shocking him out of the stare he'd had focused on Rick as the man practically downed the first half of the bottle in one go. Honestly, he hadn't realized he'd been staring.

 

Dundee was the first one into the kitchen, Winchester and Riversong coming in from the living room at the sound of their packmate's paws on the hardwood floor. Jason was right behind him. He'd left his boots at the door, and it looked like all of the others had followed suit. As Michonne, Carol, Sasha, Bob, Maggie, Beth and the kids filed in behind him, Jason said, "I was figurin' we'd just have soup for dinner. We can worry about everythin' else first thing in the morning over breakfast. Right now what we all need most is rest."

 

"It's been so long since we've been this secure…" Carol stated and then added in an almost wistful tone, "A good rest is _long_ overdue."

 

"Where are we all goin' to sleep?" Mika asked as she settled in a chair at the kitchen table. Lizzie sat in the chair beside her.

 

"It doesn't matter because we're safe." Lizzie's tone was almost harsh and seemed to imply that Mika was stupid for asking. "We'll sleep on the floor if we have to."

 

Her attitude brought an uncomfortable energy into the group, and Daryl shifted upright from his casual lean against the fridge. Rick glanced at him, and they held eye contact for a moment. Apparently, Rick was well aware that something wasn't right with that girl. Thankfully, Jason braved the awkward silence and looked Mika right in the eye in that way that made all kids feel important. "You an' Lizzie are gonna share a room with Carol for tonight. Beth an' Maggie can share the same room Beth slept in the last time she was here." Jason hesitated for just a moment as if he had to think about who he had accounted for. "Carl's good cuz he'll be sleepin' in my room with me which leaves… Sasha an' Bob. There's one room left in the house-"

 

"We'll take it," Sasha cut him off and then looked a little embarrassed. Bob chuckled and put a hand to the small of her back. She looked over and smiled at him, then looked back to Jason, chin held high as she repeated, "We'll take it."

 

Jason nodded with a smile before turning to the last person left. "Michonne?"

 

The black women went to open her mouth, but Beth cut her off. "We'll move a couch from the den up int' our room. Until we figure somethin' else out."

 

Michonne smiled obviously pleased to be included in the sisters' sisterhood. "We can do that," she agreed.

 

Which meant Daryl was sleeping on the couch in the living room. Still it was leaps and bounds better than a lot of the places he'd slept both before and after the Turn. Better than the road or a coffin at any rate. He wasn't about to complain. Jason looked around at everyone then nodded in Daryl's direction. "There's cold drinks in the fridge. Why doesn't everyone settle in while Daryl an' I go grab up some soup from the pantry?"

 

Rick offered to take Daryl's beer for him, Daryl placing the bottle in his open hand with hesitation. Rick backed up and settled in one of the chairs at the kitchen island as Daryl went past him to follow Jason to the door that sat against the wall that supported the staircase to the second floor. Thankfully the stairs to the basement were practical unlike any number of basement steps he'd encountered in his life. They tramped down them without effort. When they reached the bottom, Jason flicked on the light and stepped through the second door. Daryl followed, but stopped in his tracks just inside.

 

First: the basement was huge. Second: it had a main aisle straight out from the stairwell door and to either side of that main aisle were aisles upon aisles of food made up of floor to ceiling shelves. All of the walls were stocked shelves. It was the most food Daryl had seen in one place outside of a supermarket ever. And at the end of the main aisle, set into the wall, were the brick red doors of a freighter shipping container. Jason followed his line of sight and offered, "There's four of'em set int' the side o' the basement. Those open into four more. Six o' the eight are filled with more food. The last two are armories."

 

Daryl turned to the kid and stared. "You folks weren't fuckin' around."

 

"My dad, like my grandpa, was a closet anarchist. Grandma taught mom how t' can an' preserve foods. Mom loved bein' a homesteader's wife. She loved t' be able t' make a dinner entirely from foods she had grown, prepared an' preserved herself. Between that an' their desire t' be self-sufficient if disaster struck, they spent their entire lives here with my grandparents, makin' this place like this." The kid shrugged and Daryl just stared around himself some more. Eventually, Jason pointed to a row of shelves. "Soup's over there."

 

When they came back upstairs, their arms loaded with canned beef stew, everyone was seated and chatting amiably about the things they could do to help around the place and improve the defenses then cycling back to awed comments about the working refrigerator. Daryl followed Jason to the stove and set his armload of jars on the countertop where Jason put his. The kid ducked into a lower cupboard and pulled out a very large steel pot and then a spoon out of the drawer by the stove. Daryl left him to it and moved to take the only empty seat in the room. Beth smiled at him from one side, and Rick bumped his shoulder with his own from the other. "What are we havin'?"

 

The low tone of Rick's voice so close to his ear sent a shiver down his spine, but Daryl ignored the reaction and answered, "Beef stew."

 

Beth studied him a minute then grinned. "What did you think o' the basement, Daryl?"

 

She'd clearly gone down there that first morning when she'd made breakfast. "It's…" He couldn't find the words and shook his head, taking his beer back from Rick so that he could take a big drink.

 

Beth's grin widened, and Rick leaned around him to look at her. "What's in the basement?"

 

"Enough food t' last us years," Beth answered. "I had t' sit down the first time I went down there. Jason says they'd been stockpilin' for years before the Turn an' that he's just continued t' add to it since. Same with the armories."

 

Rick's eyebrows shot up. "The…armories?" he repeated.

 

Daryl nodded when Rick glanced at him for confirmation. "Two of'em."

 

Rick sat back, shoulders a little hunched from the ache in his side, and ran a hand over his face before taking a long pull off his mostly finished bottle. He seemed a little shaky. Who wouldn't be with all the shit they'd all been through lately? Daryl pressed his knee into the other man's thigh to offer him some silent support. He managed not to start when Rick's left hand landed in the middle of his thigh and gripped the muscle there with some force. Apparently, Rick had really needed the reassurance.

 

Jason chose that moment to turn from stirring the soup on the stove top. "The apartments above the stable an' the cow barn need t' be emptied o' some things an' tidied up a bit, but they're partially furnished an' just need t' be hooked int' the grid again. My sister an' her husband and some of my aunts an' uncles used t' stay in them when they visited so mom an' dad made sure they were comfortable. We can also finish the upper level o' the pole barn if we need to an' turn that int' livin' space as well."

 

Perking up, Beth looked over at Maggie. "You an' Glenn can have your own place!"

 

Maggie looked a little sad for a moment then seemed to pull herself up short, shaking it off and smiling. "That's goin' t' be a relief," she murmured.

 

Beth scoffed. "Yeah, for alla _us_!" and she and Maggie shared a giggle. The rest of the group was smiling at their banter and the light-hearted atmosphere seemed to ease Rick's overwhelmed mind because the death-grip on Daryl's thigh slowly eased. The hand, however, stayed. Daryl found he didn't mind much, and he minded less and less the longer the contact went unacknowledged by the rest of the people around them. By the time Jason started handing out bowls of stew and Rick took the hand back so that he could eat, Daryl found himself missing the warmth of Rick's palm on his skin even through the jeans.

 

Dinner was over before they knew it. Jason and Beth cleaned up while everyone else relaxed a bit and chatted amiably about the garden and green houses they'd seen when they'd first come in. Yawns started going around, and once the dishes and mason jars were drying on the counter, Jason and Beth motioned everyone up the stairs so they could show them to their rooms for the night. It was only a matter of moments before Jason came back down and asked Daryl to help move that couch up the stairs. When he rejoined Rick in the kitchen after the others had started to settle in, the other man was finishing off his second beer. Daryl grabbed up his third to finish it off, the two of them sitting in a comfortable silence when Jason came back down the stairs and made for the pantry in the hall. Daryl watched as the dogs eagerly moved over to him and from out of nowhere three cats appeared all of them eagerly winding around the dogs and Jason's feet. Each animal got its own bowl, and once the animals were munching away on their kibble, Jason made his way over to stand across the island from them.

 

"How ya feelin'?" he asked Rick, pulling a bottle of ibuprofen out of his pocket and setting it in front of him. Rick picked up the bottle and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

 

"A little…overwhelmed. This place is like a dream. Keep worryin' I'm gonna wake up holed up somewhere, waitin' for Walkers t' move on by." The pills rattled softly as he turned the bottle over and over in his fingers not really seeing the label any more, his eyes unfocused and distant.

 

"I understand," Jason said his tone sympathetic as he turned and pulled a glass down from the cupboard above the sink. He filled it with water and turned back, offering it to Rick so that he could take some of the pills. Rick opened the bottle and shook a few out into his palm. Once he'd swallowed half the glass of water with them, Jason asked, "You guys settle int' the suite okay?"

 

"Judith was out the minute her head touched the pillow," Daryl murmured, smirking a little fondly at the memory of tucking the little girl in.

 

At that, Jason smiled broadly. "I'm glad. She's more precious than gold in this world. It's nice t' see her reunited with her dads."

 

The simple words sort of fell on him like an avalanche of revelation. Daryl looked to Jason whose brow was slowly furrowing as if he was confused by the reaction he was getting. Rick ducked his head, tipping the water glass a bit to stare fixedly at the rocking liquid inside like he was too abashed to meet the hunter's eyes when Daryl looked at him, and that was the last piece of the puzzle. The kid thought they were together. The kid thought they were together, and Rick had known that the kid thought they were together and had done absolutely nothing to disabuse their host of that notion. That explained why the ever-considerate Jason had so readily given away the room that Daryl had claimed the last time they were here. He assumed Daryl would be moving into the master suite with Rick. It felt a little like the rug had been pulled out from underneath him.

 

Without a word, Daryl pushed away from the island and turned, walking out into the foyer and then out onto the porch. The late evening air was turning brisk, and it was refreshing against his flushed skin. That heat in his cheeks definitely wasn't the beer neither because he hadn't had nearly enough. It was definitely the infamous Dixon Temper though. Stalking over to the railing that hemmed the wraparound porch, he put both hands on it and rocked a little, trying to rein in his anger. He could see a little bit of why Lori had gotten angry with Rick sometimes now. Rick had a way of just assuming things would work out in his favor. It seemed the apocalypse had done away with a lot of that attitude, but apparently some of it had stuck around. The asshole had clearly been assuming that Daryl would just fall in line with whatever his plan was.

 

He lashed out before he'd even realized he was doing it, punching the column near the stairs. The sting of split and bruised knuckles went a long way in quelling the rage that still bubbled beneath the veneer of normality he'd managed to pull around himself living with this group. Looking down at the blood welling in the splits on the back of his hand, Daryl felt a sudden sense of calm settle over him.

 

If he were being a little more rational and a little less red neck…if he pushed the rising tide of Merle's voice back down… he could actually see better what he'd been subconsciously avoiding since before the fall of the prison. It was hard to focus on the thought with the decades of sexist, judgmental and homophobic bile he'd been force fed most of his life, but things were different now. Things had been different before now. Daryl had been both aware of that and much more accepting of that than Merle had ever been, but right now was what mattered. It didn't matter anymore what color your skin was, what sex you'd been born to or what gender you preferred to be in the company of. It didn't matter in this world now because there were so few people left, and when you found something good you needed to grab on with both hands and never let go. Beth had taught him that. Clinging to each positive moment with fierce determination and urging him to do the same.

 

And Rick was a good thing.

 

He'd given Daryl a place at his side from the moment they'd met. He'd proved to Daryl over and over that Daryl was worth something. That he was valuable and valued. He'd never taken Daryl's skills and contributions for granted. Rick was a good man. A great friend. Lori hadn't deserved his unwavering loyalty. Shane hadn't deserved that or his friendship. And hadn't Daryl vowed to be better than both of them? Of course, that didn't mean he had to roll over and shack up with the other man to play house like the good little minion who blindly followed the leader that Carol had once feared he'd become, but…what if…what if he wanted to? What if…fuck, he hadn't spent a lot of time in intimate contact with people _before_ the Turn, let alone after. Rick was probably the one person he spent the most time touching other than Judith. It had always been little friendly gestures and physical offerings of support that took on a whole new meaning in light of the revelation of Rick's…plan. Or whatever.

 

Rubbing at his knuckles, Daryl let all the air he'd been holding in his lungs out through his nose in a long hissing sigh.

 

"That was fairly mild. I was expectin' a lot more mutterin'. Maybe some shoutin'. More violence. How's your hand?"

 

Daryl looked out into the yard and didn't turn around to face Rick as the former officer stepped out onto the porch. "Fine," he drawled and covered the bleeding knuckles with his other hand.

 

"I was gonna t' talk t' you…after everyone went t' bed," Rick offered softly.

 

"'Bout what?" Daryl growled. He was still pissed that Rick had just…planned it all out _before_ thinking to talk to him. Rick's presence loomed a little closer.

 

"About…us. I've been tryin' t' figure out what t' say for a long time. Carl made me promise I'd talk t' you after we found you again. I still don't really know…what t' say, I mean… but I’m tryin' here."

 

The last of Daryl's anger drained away. Rick sounded lost. A man that adrift couldn't have planned a damn thing. Not on the sly as it had seemed he had been doing. So, not sly then. Shy. Now that he thought about it, Rick was probably just as confused and struggling just as much with these feelings and desires as he was. Daryl had always personally been blasé about the whole topic of sexuality. Merle had tried hard to beat it out of him, but Daryl had never felt judging love to be fair. Merle had often called him the "sweet one," trying to rankle him by indirectly calling him a fag. Sometimes Daryl had risen to the bait, giving into the violence of his upbringing, and sometimes he'd wandered away from Merle's shouting and name-calling. His struggle was in thinking of himself in the same benevolent light he looked on others with.

 

"Daryl…" Rick sounded worried, and Daryl finally turned to face him.

 

"Shut up." Taking one step forward put Daryl right in Rick's personal space. The other man stood his ground and closed his mouth, lips thinning. He looked like he was bracing for a blow. They were close in height, and for that Daryl was grateful. It meant he didn't have to crane his neck to look Rick in the eye, and it meant that when he grabbed Rick's collar with the hand that wasn't starting to swell – ignoring the way the man immediately flinched away from the sudden motion – he didn't really have to stretch much to bring their mouths together. Let it never be said that Daryl Dixon had ever let inexperience stop him from doing whatever the fuck he wanted to.

 

Between one heartbeat and the next, Rick caught up with the situation. One strong hand gripped his upper arm while the other oh-so-gently cradled Daryl's jaw, pulling him closer as the mouth on his slanted eagerly against his own. Daryl settled his bruised hand on Rick's hip and leaned in. Rick was a hungry kisser, devouring Daryl's mouth with a passion that made Daryl's knees go just a little weak even as he did his best to keep up. He'd kissed a few girls when he'd been younger and less in control of himself, but he'd always been drunk or high and always excused himself before things had ever gone farther than a few brushes of their lips. Women honestly intimidated him a bit. He didn't understand them. Rick…he understood. Contact was comfort and an expression of intimacy with very little ulterior motive. Women always wanted something more, something deeper…something other than what they were showing you they wanted. He'd never spent enough time around them to learn the ins and outs of dealing with them. With Rick, everything was probably going to be exactly what he thought it was aside from occasional misunderstandings like this one. That made this – made stepping out of his personal bubble – a little more comfortable.

 

Eventually, they had to pull apart for air. As far as first kisses went, Daryl found he wasn't disappointed. He hadn't been able to turn his mind off, so he'd not been able to really sink into the moment, but as they panted into each other's mouths, foreheads resting against each other, he realized he'd probably always remember this moment in the same light as he'd always remember feeding Judith her first bottle – an imperfect moment made perfect by or despite the imperfections within it.

 

Rick's eyes were still closed when Daryl opened his own. For a moment, Daryl looked his fill of that familiar face, of the classically handsome cheekbones and jaw, and felt his heart swell to bursting. He was so fucking screwed. Then again, hadn't he been screwed for a while now? How many others could claim that Daryl Dixon, known loner and coarse red neck, would move heaven and Earth for them?

 

TBC…


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This chapter is schmoop with a little angst. I love domestic slice of life moments and so this chapter is a lot of Rickyl-domesticity. It's sort of the calm before the storm really, but hey, what's a good fic without a little bit of fluff? I do apologize if this is a little slower than the fic's run so far, but I had to have my fluffy, mushy (for these two anyway) moments before I…y'know…went all evil on them and stuff.

Chapter Eight

 

Daryl wasn't sure how long they simply stood in each other's presence out on the porch, but after a while, he forced himself to take a step back. Rick's eyes opened. He lowered the hand cupping Daryl's face to the top of his shoulder, but didn't remove either of them from Daryl's body. Bright blue eyes searched over his face and Daryl shifted his weight a little under the scrutiny.

 

"You need t' rest," he mumbled and pulled away, seeking a little space. His heart was still pounding and his skin tingled. He could still feel Rick's lips like a ghost against his own. He'd never really wanted to be like that with another person. At least not in the permanent and realistic sense because there'd been lots of porn before the Turn. It was a little overwhelming to feel the rush of lust so much more strongly, especially with that extra tightening in his chest to go along with it.

 

Rick didn't step away, but he did shift back minutely. His body language offered Daryl space, but his eyes were another story the look in them intense and almost possessive. After a moment, Rick sighed and glanced back at the door. "The bed's a king. I promise not t' crowd ya. I just can't see you sleepin' on the damn couch when you've sacrificed so much for us as it is. _You deserve better than that_."

 

There was only a moment's hesitation before Daryl dipped his chin. Rick wasn't likely to start letting things go now when he'd had less invested in the past and pushed harder. It was easier to just agree. "I'll be in inna minute."

 

For a second Rick looked like he was going to protest, but wisely the other man chose to simply nod and then slipped back into the house. Daryl turned slowly and stared out into the yard and the dirt lot. The garden was just barely visible across the way now that it was after dusk.

 

He'd kissed Rick Grimes.

 

Rick Grimes had kissed him back.

 

'I knew it.' Merle's raspy drawl echoed in the back of his head and Daryl closed his eyes, leaning casually against the same column he'd punched a bit ago. Even after Merle's death and a good deal of time, his heritage still haunted him. Fuckin' Merle. 'I ain' gonna have my baby brother bending over for the _cop_ that cost me my god damned hand. Listen t' me. You mark my words. These people are gonna bleed you dry and then cast you t' the side like the piece of white trash we all know you are.'

 

It was just a variation on the same old litany. Merle had been telling him no one would want him around since just after their mom had died. His father had done nothing but reinforce that claim, beating Daryl like a punching bag – among doing other things to him – every chance he got and telling him constantly what a worthless piece of shit he was. When he was there to care at all anyway. Honestly, Merle had been the kindest person he'd spent any great length of time around until they'd fallen in with Shane's people. Rick's people really. Shane had just been a place holder, and Daryl, in this moment, found that he was grateful that Shane had conceded leadership to Rick right away or things could have gotten a lot uglier a lot faster.

 

But that was all in the past.

 

Merle was dead, and Daryl was the better for it.

 

' _You deserve better than that_.'

 

It was a little surprising to suddenly hear Rick's voice in his mind. Those fervent words from only a few moments ago ringing powerfully over the lingering whispers of Merle's foul memory.

 

'You are a very valuable part of this group.'

 

Beth's voice was much softer and less vivid than Rick's, but her words from the church rang just as pure and insistent. Merle was wrong, like he'd been wrong so many times before. These people saw the value in him that Merle and his father had never been able to see, blinded by booze and drugs and unhealthy sexual desires. Daryl was done just blindly following old fashioned, hillbilly nonsense and the ways of broken, mean ol' sons of bitches.

 

The storm door behind him creaked open, and Daryl automatically tensed. He'd expected that everyone had gone to bed. Jason offered a softly spoken, "I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have assumed anything about any of you and putting you on the spot like that was terrible of me."

 

"Forget it," Daryl grumbled as uncomfortable receiving apologies as he was giving them. Sorry didn't mean shit where he'd come from. Actions spoke far louder and actually made up for the wrong things people did. And he wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone right now. In fact he was incredibly tempted to go check out the loft apartment in the horse barn and just stay there if only he didn't know that Rick would come looking for him if he didn't turn up in the master suite in a bit.

 

"I'm still sorry," Jason said and then the door creaked again, and Daryl was left with the quiet of a moonless night and the turbulence of his own thoughts.

 

Eventually the chill drove him inside. It was a bit surprising that Rick hadn't come looking for him yet when he stepped back into the house, locking the door behind him. On silent feet, he made his way through the den and on through the hall. Once he was inside the bedroom doorway, he just stopped and took the whole scene in. Rick lay on his uninjured side on the far side of the bed, leaving the side by the door free for Daryl. He'd given no indication that he was awake, but Daryl suspected he was very much so and well aware that Daryl had come into the room. He could just see Judith in her pink pajama outfit through the slats of the crib's side. She didn't look like she'd moved much and a little trill of fear zipped through him. Enough to move him the rest of the way into the room and up to the side of the crib. He could just make out the slight rise and fall of her chest if he held his own breath and watched her closely. It was relieving to see her so peaceful, to know she was safe from damn near all harm here. She must have moved a bit at some point because the quilt had slid down a bit, and he very carefully reached in to pull it back up over her shoulder. She didn't so much as stir.

 

After a long moment of just watching her sleep, Daryl finally moved away from Judith's crib and made his way over to the other side of the bed. The sight of his crossbow leaning up against the nightstand and hidden in the shadow of the furniture around it but within easy reach sort of stopped him in his tracks. Rick had thought ahead and seen to it that Daryl would be as comfortable as Rick could make him. There was even a pair of sleep pants, a tank top and a pair of boxers sitting, folded neatly on the top of the nightstand. Rick had to have known that Daryl was going commando, given that he hadn't left any clean underwear in the bathroom for him earlier that day, and he'd considered the fact that Daryl probably wouldn't want to sleep naked the first time they shared a bed. Plus he'd given Daryl options, not just picking whatever he assumed Daryl would prefer to sleep in. This was consideration on a level Daryl had never – not once – experienced in his entire life. It was such a small thing, but it was something that sort of rocked his world on its side. It hadn't occurred to him that someone could ever be that considerate of him. Once again he found himself hating Lori and the way she'd taken this man for granted.

 

Glancing over, he noted that Rick was still keeping his back to Daryl's side of the bed, and he thought it _would_ be nice to sleep in something other than his regular clothes for a change.

 

Cautiously, he slipped out of the vest and after a moment's consideration he hung it on the bedpost. The shirt he tossed to the floor on the side of the nightstand, pulling the tank top over his head in its place. Staying as quiet as he could, he pulled his belt free and then dropped his pants, nudging them into the pile with his foot even as he reached over and snagged the loose cotton sleep pants off the nightstand. They looked comfortable and were incredibly soft to the touch. Pulling them on, he tied them and then bent to pull off his socks. It felt like some kind of momentous thing when he finally pulled back the covers and slipped into the bed.

 

Rick stirred and Daryl glanced over, but the other man remained on his side and seemed to settle. Maybe Daryl had been wrong and he really was already asleep. It would explain why he hadn't come looking for Daryl despite the fact that he'd been outside after Rick had gone in for at least two hours. Settling into the mattress and scooting down until he was comfortable enough to toss an arm behind his head, Daryl stared at the ceiling. It was probably going to be a very sleepless night, given that he seemed hyperaware of the other person in the bed with him.

 

Given that, it was a complete surprise that he woke up nice and easy in the late morning of the next day. Rick and Judith were already up, the other man sitting in a rocking chair by the crib that hadn't been there the night before. He was feeding Judith from a bottle.

 

"Mornin'," Rick offered in a soft, amused voice. "Was startin' t' wonder when you'd rejoin the livin'. They covered a plate of beef sausage an' scrambled eggs for ya. Everyone's out messin' around with the animals. Jason's settin' 'em up so that he can head out with whoever's going after Glenn. Except for Beth. She's in the kitchen baking."

 

Daryl huffed, amused by Beth and her tendencies and not for the first time neither. Unable to stop himself he rubbed at his eyes and asked, "How long?"

 

"I've been up for a bit," Rick answered and pulled the empty bottle from Judith's mouth. She smacked her little lips and then smacked her little hands together, looking about her with a baby's interest. Daryl pushed himself up on his elbows and Rick followed his line of sight down to the chair he sat in. "Jason. He's pretty sneaky. Brought it in while we were both sleepin'. I didn't hear him either, so don' feel too bad."

 

With a soft grunt, Daryl pushed himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. With both hands he rubbed at his face. It was hard to remember the last time he'd slept that good. It was harder to remember a time when someone moving around him while he was trying to sleep, even a friend, hadn't woken him. Apparently both Jason and Rick had managed to do just that. It was no little bit disconcerting almost bordering on alarming but for the fact that he trusted Rick with his life. Movement out of the corner of his eye turned his attention back to the man on his mind, who was getting up. Daryl watched him struggle for a moment with the pain in his side as he hefted Judith up onto his hip. Even so, Daryl could tell he had some kind of pain killers in him or he wouldn't have been moving near as good as he was. Rick turned and lowered Judith into the crib and then he was turning back to Daryl.

 

Moving slowly over, he motioned with a small flick of his fingers to the space beside Daryl on the edge of the mattress. Daryl dipped his chin, eyes tracking Rick's every move as the other man settled beside him. Rick leaned forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and folding his hands in front of his face. He braced his cheek against them so that he was looking at Daryl and spoke softly into the quiet. "I wanted t' talk t' you…before you head out today."

 

Daryl tipped his head, looking sideways at him. "Oh yeah?"

 

"Yeah." Rick dropped his hands. They hung limp between his knees and those bright blue eyes dropped to the floor. "I appreciate what you're doin'…going out again t' find Glenn. If I could, I'd be right there with you."

 

Daryl wanted to say 'Like hell I'd let you," but he respected Rick enough to hold his tongue. The man wasn't one to make overly rash decisions. If he thought he had to go out, then it was probably the right decision to make. Daryl just didn't like even the thought of Rick, who was probably one of the unluckiest bastards he'd ever met, putting himself right back out into the line of fire. Rick continued when Daryl only studied him in silence. "I've already set the Python up. Cleaned it before you came in last night. The belt's loaded too. There's plenty of ammo if you need it. I want you t' take it out with you. The crossbow's good, I'll give ya that, but the Python's never failed me and I… Well, I'd feel a lot better if you took it out with you."

 

Rick shifted, unable to be still as he struggled with whatever it was he was trying to do here. He was all anxiety and nerves, wiping his palms on the thighs of his jeans as he blew out a frustrated sigh. Daryl looked him up and down and figured he'd make things a little easier on the poor man. Reaching out, he settled a hand over the wrist that was closest to him. Rick stilled instantly. "It on the table in the kitchen?"

 

The look of relief on Rick's face was reward enough for agreeing to carry the pistol.

 

"Yeah," Rick confirmed. Daryl nodded and pushed himself to his feet. Or, he tried. Rick snagged his wrist and pulled, keeping him seated. "I'm not finished."

 

Frowning, Daryl remained seated, waiting. If there was one thing he'd learned about Rick Grimes it was that he never wasted anyone's time. Whatever he had to say, it was probably important and the man wouldn't be able to just let it go. He _needed_ Daryl to hear it or he wouldn't be choosing his words so carefully or insisting that Daryl wait him out. A few more moments slid by before Rick finally met Daryl's eyes again. "I _appreciate_ what you're doin'. Glenn deserves _every_ chance t' live. Maggie…she deserves t' at least have the opportunity t' know. One way or the other. I want t' give them that. And you…I want you to come back."

 

Rick stared into Daryl's eyes for just a moment longer before he finally dropped his gaze to his own hand around Daryl's wrist. Reaching up with the hand not caught in Rick's too tight grip, Daryl cupped the back of Rick's neck. Actions always spoke louder than words. Words that Daryl didn't really have to offer. But he could offer this. Well aware of the other man's injuries, Daryl leaned in only using the hand at Rick's neck to pull him forward the last few centimeters. Their foreheads came to rest against each other and despite the motion pinning his other arm between them the position seemed to give them both a sense of peace. They sat like that in silence for several long moments. Rick swallowed hard when Daryl finally pulled back eyes coming up to meet Daryl's again. Daryl's hand stayed firm on the back of Rick's neck. "Chinaman's prolly half way here by now all on his own. Trip'll take prolly three, four days tops."

 

"All I care about is you comin' back. In one piece. I don't think I could handle a repeat o' you turnin' up with another Trophy Necklace."

 

This time when Daryl got to his feet, Rick did nothing to stop him. "Weren't no trophies," Daryl told him in a soft voice. "Don't you fuckin' know camouflage when ya see it?"

 

The grin that split Rick's face at that was by far better than the tight line his mouth had been only a heartbeat before. "I gotta take a piss." Rick's soft chuckles followed him into the bathroom and Daryl found he couldn't pull the corners of his mouth back down.

 

When Daryl emerged into the bedroom again, Rick had taken Judith out of the crib once more and was waiting by the door. Together they made their way into the kitchen. The bread in the oven was just starting to bake up, so the fresh baked smell was just starting to permeate the air around them.

 

Beth looked up and cocked her head, smirking in that slow and amused way of hers. "Causal looks good on you, Daryl." Rick cast him an equally amused look, but Daryl scoffed and made a bee-line for the fridge bare feet slapping softly on the hardwood floor. He pulled out the covered plate and was just pulling off the lid when Beth offered, "Want me t' heat that up for you?"

 

Daryl looked between the plate of food and Beth and then silently handed it over. Might as well let her make it warm. It would make her happy and Daryl had no complaints about hot food. While Beth got out another cookie sheet and dumped the plate onto it, Daryl turned to Rick and leaned closer to Judith. The baby giggled, big, soft eyes crinkling in delight as she stared at Daryl, and stuffed her little fist in her mouth, the other hand flexing on the shoulder of her dad's shirt. Rick adjusted her, winced and then leaned her toward Daryl. "You mind? She's gettin' heavy."

 

Daryl happily took her pleased to no end that Lil Asskicker seemed eager to be passed to him. "Yer dad says yer chubby," he teased her in a voice he _only_ used for her, and Rick gave him a playfully dirty look. Rick moved over to the table and settled in a chair, Daryl taking the seat right next to him and putting Judith on his knee. She immediately began slapping her hands down on the table, delighted by the noise she was able to make.

 

A few minutes later, Beth was placing the plate of warmed food in front of him. Daryl tucked Judith in close with one arm and picked up a sausage patty with his fingers, taking a bite. Judith stared up at him in fascination. "Nuh-uh," he mumbled to her around his mouthful. "You ain' old enough t' have the good stuff yet."

 

Rick chuckled and reached out, pulling the Python and its gun belt toward him. Daryl glanced over, still eagerly chowing down on his plate of food, but when Rick made no move to speak simply staring in thought at the gun, he turned his full attention back to his food.

 

"Jason says we don't have pork around here cuz pigs are too much like people," Beth said into the silence. "He says they had two hogs they were raising t' breed and both of 'em got sick. Like Violet."

 

Rick hummed, the sound thoughtful. "It makes sense. Good thing the pigs just die though," he murmured after a moment of thought. Daryl nodded, humming in agreement, and started licking his fingers. Undead hogs were a nightmare he didn't want to think about. Rick seemed to come out of whatever funk he'd been in and looked directly at Beth. "You mind watchin' Judy? Her playpen's all put together now, so she won't be no trouble."

 

"You know I love spending time with her, Rick," Beth answered with a huge smile. "In fact, I'll be right back."

 

Daryl was bouncing Judith on his knee when Beth came back seconds later pushing the playpen. Once she'd put it where she wanted it, she came up to Daryl and opened her hands. Daryl handed the baby over and then stood.

 

"Gotta get dressed," he told them and then made his way back into the bedroom. He was just buckling his belt, fully dressed boots and all, when Rick came in and tossed the Python and gun belt on the mattress. He was filled with nervous energy again and Daryl turned to look him right in the eye, just knowing that whatever he'd calmed in the man earlier was back. Rick was just one of those rare men that wore their emotions sincerely on their sleeve. The kind of man that would have gotten himself dead in Daryl's world before the Turn. Now it was no one's world, and Rick had proven he was more than capable of surviving within a lawless universe.

 

Rick hesitated for just a moment and then he was moving forward like a starving man setting on a feast. Daryl was caught completely off guard and grabbed Rick's wrists at the same time as Rick's hands cradled his face. Rick's mouth was warm and gentle, despite his fervor, as his lips pressed into Daryl's own. It would have been hard not to respond when there was just so much that Rick was pouring into the kiss. His lips were pliant and soft as they swept over Daryl's own over and over, the action neither forceful nor demanding. It was almost a plea really. The intensity of the contact, the hunger in the way Rick's mouth tasted Daryl's with little sweeps of the tip of his tongue over his chapped lips…it was overwhelming and good and something Daryl couldn't quite put a name to. Slowly Daryl's hands found their way to the side of Rick's neck and the back of his head, long fingers tangling in soft curls as he pulled Rick closer. Gentle teeth tugged at Daryl's lower lip the sensation sending a slow curl of heat low through his belly and when he made a small groaning noise through semi-parted-lips, Rick swept his tongue along the inside of Daryl's bottom lip. It took the kiss to a whole new level. One that had Daryl pressing in close and holding on tighter.

 

When at last they pulled apart, Rick wrapped his arms around Daryl's shoulders, hugging him tight. Daryl panted and clung back, his own arms around Rick's torso while Rick's breath huffed warmly over his ear. "I understand a little better," the former Sheriff's Deputy murmured into Daryl's ear, sending a shiver down Daryl's spine. "Why Lori had so many issues with me goin' out on duty."

 

"Well, I ain' no cop, so I won' be puttin' myself in the line o' fire. I'll be back 'fore y' know it." His normally gruff voice was made smokier by the rush of lust that was only just now abating. Rick buried his face in the side of Daryl's neck for just a moment, tightening his arms before slowly pulling away. Daryl let his own arms drop to his sides.

 

"I know. Don' change how I feel." Slowly Rick took another step back, putting a little distance between them. "You jus' be careful, y'hear me?"

 

Daryl leaned over and picked up the gun belt from the bed, strapping it over his hips. The Python was a solid weight at his side and truth be told, he actually did feel a little safer with it there. "I always am," he scoffed and slapped Rick's shoulder. The other man grinned and shook his head, looking like he was about to call bullshit when a light rap of knuckles pulled their attention from each other to the doorway.

 

Jason leaned in the entrance to the room. "Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt, but we've got everything ready. The folks staying here should have no trouble keeping the home fires burning while we're gone. And you," he pointed at Rick. "Are to restrict your activities. I don't mean t' tell y'what t' do, but try not to carry that baby girl of yours around too much. Okay?"

 

"Yes, sir," Rick offered with a small smirk. Daryl turned then and grabbed up his crossbow from beside the bed.

 

"I've got a saddle quiver on Cherno, so you'll be riding him this time. He's very a steady gelding. I think you'll like him." They followed Jason out into the kitchen as the young man continued. "It's going to be just you, me and Maggie again. We did good together last time and three's about the limit for carrying a good deal of supplies plus extra for the person we're looking for."

 

Beth stood beside Maggie, who was already standing in the middle of the dining area with a rifle in her arms. It was clear they'd already exchanged goodbyes. "We ready t' go?"

 

"Yeah," Daryl said and Jason headed for the foyer. Carl was standing on the front porch with his hat in his hands, leaning against the column by the stairs. He straightened as they all filed out. Maggie and Jason headed straight down the stairs, simply exchanging nods with the boy. Rick stopped in the doorway, holding the screen door open and watching as Carl stepped up and looked Daryl up and down. Daryl ruffled the kid's hair just to break the serious look on his face.

 

"Hey!" Carl ducked away but he was grinning. He held out a fist and Daryl reached out to bump knuckles with the kid, understanding that this was the kid's way of acting cool and still showing that he cared. "Come back safe, okay?"

 

"Yeah," was Daryl's only acknowledgment before he trotted down the stairs. At the base, he turned to look up at them. Rick stood at the top of the stairs with an arm around his son's shoulders. Carl's expression was bright and sunny. Rick's was warm and almost fond. Daryl threw them a wave and then turned to follow Jason and Maggie into the horse barn.

 

TBC…


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: OMG this chapter took me forever to get done. I had a big thing for work this past weekend so I had like no time and then I was kinda iffy about where I wanted to go with it (thank you Minako for listening to my insane ramblings about not knowing what to do). Then I was like how do I want what I decided to happen to play out. Uhg. But! Here it is! Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the amazing Norman Reedus for putting so much awesome into a character like Daryl Dixon. Enough awesome that despite Daryl's unsavory first impression we've all come to love and adore him. Apparently, Norman wants a dog for Daryl. So, here he goes.

Chapter Nine

 

Waking up was a slow and painful thing. He did it in stages, first becoming aware of himself then that he was sore and then that he was actually sore everywhere and all over. Next came the realization that he was wet and cold. Not hypothermic. It was early fall in Georgia so he was just chilled. Small favors from a God he didn't believe in. Lastly, he took in his surroundings. It was dark. He was in the woods. He wasn't alone. Only his companion was a dog that licked his face three times before he was able to push the thing's muzzle away. It took a moment, but eventually, Daryl knew. He was in the deepest shit he'd probably ever been in.

 

He was disoriented.

 

He didn't know where his weapons were.

 

He could hardly move.

 

He was…basically alone.

 

When had he come to rely on his group so fucking much?

 

It was obvious when Daryl tried to roll to his side that his left shoulder was dislocated. It had happened to him enough times in his childhood for him to know the feeling without needing a doctor to tell him so. Every joint hurt, but this one was a white hot fire of agony and wrongness where the others just throbbed deep but dull. He'd have to see to that if he wanted to live. This wasn't a world one wanted such a disadvantage in, or its potential long term complications if he left it dislocated for any great length of time. Man, he fucking hated resetting his shoulder and just the thought made him woozier. Putting a hand to his forehead, he tried to breathe deep and evenly. At least he didn't have any broken ribs. At present, the night around him was quiet except for the snuffles and sighs of the dog. Dundee, he recalled suddenly, and with the name came the slow realization of how he'd come into his current predicament.

 

They'd found Glenn. Daryl, Maggie and Jason had agreed to press on for a while longer, having checked a few different tracks within a range they all agreed were within Glenn's weakened abilities to get to. They'd come up on him just walking down one of the sets of tracks they'd mapped out with two women and two other men in tow. Daryl had been hard-pressed to keep his manners when one of the newcomers had insisted he knew what had caused the Outbreak. What the fuck did that matter if the guy was just gonna meander around Georgia instead of taking his stupid-smart ass up to Washington DC like his ginger friend kept saying they were going to go? Still, he'd kept his peace rather than alienating anyone. It looked like they'd done well by Glenn. Hell, it was possible that without them Glenn wouldn't be alive. Daryl figured that accounted for something like luck and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

Luck could be a bitch though because finding Glenn and making it halfway back home after only five days of travel had been too easy. Daryl hadn't said anything, but in the back of his mind he'd wondered when the other shoe was going to drop. They'd barely even run into Walkers. He regretted the thought the following day, when they'd been ambushed by a group of men that had apparently been tailing them for the better part of their return trip. Daryl hadn't even noticed and by no fault of his own. These men were obviously skilled at stalking human prey. Hell, even Dundee had been unaware of their followers, so Daryl didn't feel quite so bad when he thought of it like that.

 

They'd been surrounded once they reached the last covered bridge leading to the outskirts of the prison, a two days' walk from the Homestead. It was old even by late 1900's standards, unused and barely functional. Probably had been since before the Turn, but it had supported them – including the horses – on the way out despite being a crumbling mess. Unfortunately, it hadn't been up to the scuffle of two groups of people. The last thing Daryl remembered was being slammed through the rotted wooden walls and plunging into the water.

 

The fall had been short. The stop at the end had been painful.

 

He was so god damned frustrated he was about to just… scream and start fucking shit up.

 

Except that he couldn't because of his fucking arm.

 

Using his right elbow, he dragged himself deeper into the low canopy of the almost-tree-like-bushes he'd woken up under. Drawing up his left knee he forced himself to sit up, grabbed his left wrist and hooked his joined hands over that knee. It took some doing but eventually his shoulder joint popped back into place. Daryl had never been more grateful for the knowledge an abusive father had forced him to gain than in that moment. If he'd had no idea how to reset his shoulder, he'd have been so incredibly dead the words "Walker Bait" didn't even cover it. The relief of pressure was phenomenal, but right behind the release of endorphins came the kind of soreness and pain that came with damage. It was hard not to groan, but he didn't want to attract the attention of any passing Walkers, or those men if they were still in the area.

 

Dundee let out a soft whine and wiggled closer to him. Daryl sighed and gently laid his right hand on the dog's shoulder, tucking his left arm close to his stomach. In the morning, he'd have to slide out of the thicket of bushes and turn his shirt into a sling. Thankfully, a quick check proved his buck knife was still in place, and now that he was trying to he could still feel the weight of the Python against his right hip and thigh. Even wet the revolver would fire. A pang of regret seized him then, knowing he'd probably never see his crossbow again. Darkness crept up on him more readily than he'd have thought possible given how shook up and in pain he was. He refused to acknowledge that it was more a matter of passing out than anything.

 

It was Dundee's rumbling growl under his hand that woke him just after dawn. Daryl noted right away that the birds were silent despite the early hour, so something was definitely amiss. Tightening his fingers in Dundee's fur silenced the dog, and Daryl listened hard to their surroundings. The sure footed steps of multiple living human beings rustled all around him, making Daryl's heart race. Could the group have found him already or was it the men that had attacked them? After a minute of listening, a voice finally sounded into the quiet of the forest.

 

"You're sure he'd have been able to get himself this far from the river?"

 

"Well, he ain't by the river now is he?"

 

"Listen here, you stupid fuck. That's our next two or three meals. Ain't no way the rest o' them people are going to look for a corpse, and we all know no one'd survive that fall plus the rapids. Hell, we should go further up stream and look for the dog's body, too. That much more food in our bellies."

 

A soft scoff sounded from another direction. "No, you're the stupid fuck. That wasn't much of a fall and those ain't rapids, you dumb ass. What is it with you city people and you're dramatics?! He's probably a little beat up, but it's possible he's miles away by now. We're wasting our fucking time. Let's try to find the dog. Maybe we'll get it to come close enough for us to kill it."

 

"One dog? You really think that's going to feed us?"

 

"It'll have to fuckin' do now won't it?"

 

A voice that hadn't spoken yet offered, "Maybe we could go back to the river and go further along riverbank. We've only checked a couple of miles along. It's possible the guy stuck to the river."

 

"Yeah. Yeah. I think y'all're overestimating this guy's survival ability. He looked rough but look what he was travelin' with! Women! A fuckin' chinaman. No real man travels with those kinds o' people. Those're the kind o' people you only keep around to fuck and for cookin'."

 

The bantering, bickering and arguing continued as the small group of men moved away. Daryl slowly let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and forced his locked knuckles to ease up on poor Dundee's fur. Tail wagging, the dog twisted to lick his hand a few times then immediately went still but for twitching his ears and staring in the direction the men had gone. Daryl was very grateful that he'd managed to drag someone who was at least useful with him. At least one of the people Glenn had had with him hadn't jumped in after him or something. Those three were something else, still being alive and being that fucking ignorant.

 

When Dundee finally seemed to relax, Daryl slowly wriggled out of the bushes and went about sitting up and slowly removing his vest, then his shirt. It was hard work only having one hand and his teeth to work with, and the pain and feelings of _wrongness_ in his shoulder definitely and frustratingly slowed him down by a lot, but eventually he'd fashioned a makeshift sling out of his shirt. At least he'd dried off most of the way during his nap. He pulled his vest back on and pulled the sling over his arm and shoulder.

 

Stumbling to his feet, Daryl leaned heavily on a nearby tree and panted. He fucking hurt _everywhere_. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't black and blue. He was absolutely certain of it. A quick glance around told a short tale. Dundee had dragged him from the river and then to the first thing resembling shelter that the dog had come across. How the idiots that had just been by hadn't seen the signs was a miracle of sheer stupidity. Clearly, they weren't trackers. Probably not that great at hunting game. It made what Daryl had heard seem a little more plausible. They probably really had been intending to eat him and the dog if they could get their hands on them. Who knew the apocalypse would bring cannibals en masse up out of American soil.

 

Dundee slipped out of the bush and sat, looking up at Daryl and panting. "Y'know how t' get home?" he asked, voice low and hoarse. Dundee got to his feet but simply stared at Daryl, tail swaying. The hunter sighed. It was impossible to tell if the dog was listening to him or just excited that he was talking to him. Well, Jason relied on this dog a lot and if Daryl remembered correctly at some point, Jason had used the word home in a command. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but it was worth a shot.

 

"Let's go home, boy."

 

Pulling out his buck knife as a first line of defense, Daryl took a deep couple of breaths and pushed off the tree. His right ankle hurt enough for Daryl to assume it was sprained, but that didn't stop him from limping forward. It was going to be a long trip back to the Homestead. Hopefully, Rick was smart enough to make them all stay put. Going out and looking for him wasn't very wise. He wasn't one to stay in one spot. Especially given the circumstances. Concern for the rest of his friends was nagging at his conscience. Had Maggie, Glenn and the rest of them made it? What if any of them had been captured? If he had heard those assholes right, and they were as bad as Daryl estimated they were at real game hunting, it sounded like they'd really planned on eating Daryl's sorry carcass. Which meant that they would be willing to eat Maggie, Glenn or any of the others. Daryl hoped they'd gotten away. More and more thoughts tumbled through his mind as he slowly made his way. Were they eating Walker flesh? Or were they hoping he would be at Death's Door and unable to fight back when they put a knife through his skull for a clean and edible kill?

 

All the while, Dundee matched pace with Daryl, moving only a few feet ahead of him. Enough to stay close without tripping the injured man up. Every now and then the dog would glance back then keep moving. It was as if the dog was checking up on Daryl and making sure he was still coming. The gesture was caring on a level that was amazing coming from an animal. Or maybe Daryl just didn't have enough animal experience. It was probably something Jason would have found commonplace.

 

Ever since he was a kid, Daryl had wanted a dog, but he'd never even tried to get one. Even if he'd hidden it, it would have been too much risk for the animal because if his old man had found out about it he would have been certain to make Daryl watch him kill the critter slowly. He knew Dundee wasn't exactly his, but the Blue Heeler had shown a lot of interest in Daryl on their trips together, bringing him sticks to throw and sleeping closer and closer to him each night they spent out. Of course, that could just be because Daryl kept sharing his food with the dog. Jason never told him not to or to stop so Daryl indulged the childish side of himself a little and bribed the dog a bit to keep him close. Dundee might never be his dog, but at least he got to pretend for a minute. It looked like that dog at least cared about him because Daryl had the vaguest of memories of a pointy-eared shadow flying off the bridge after him, the image made wavy and dark-edged by the water he'd been sinking into and away from consciousness at the time.

 

Dundee stopped dead in front of him, bringing him out of his thoughts, and Daryl slowed to a stop, leaning on a nearby tree. Listening now that his own shuffling steps weren't masking the sound, Daryl could hear the hiss and groans of a couple of Walkers shambling around nearby. Dundee backed up a few steps until his butt was just resting against Daryl's shin and stared hard ahead of them. Together they stood frozen, straining to hear every little sound. It seemed like the Walkers were moving away, slowly without stimulation, but Daryl stayed put and waited. He was really in no condition to fight, so the best thing he could do was avoid conflict as much as possible for the next few days.

 

A long time later, Dundee stepped forward again and Daryl pushed off the tree so that he could follow. They walked like that for hours. It seemed the Walkers from this area were mostly at the prison. Or at least that was Daryl's best guess. The ruckus of a couple weeks ago had drawn them toward the prison, but maybe not all of them had made it. They were probably just now losing the stimulation and shuffling on without purpose. If that were the case, the prison might be mostly free of Walkers soon and they might be able to go in and get the rest of their stuff. If someone hadn't beaten them to it. It was a little surprising how many survivor camps there were in this little area alone and in a way it gave a person some hope that someday they might mostly overcome the Walkers. Sure they were all infected, but who knew. Decades from now there might be a cure. It also gave Daryl a certain sense of concern. Other survivors meant competition for land, game animals and supplies. Conflicts like they'd already experienced. It also opened the door for trade and alliances like back in the days of the native tribes. Provided the Homestead stayed hidden, they'd be fine, but life wasn't that kind most of the time and the Cannibals were straying awfully close to home. The group would have to talk about having a defense plan and an escape plan, unlike at the prison. No getting too comfortable this time. No playing nice.

 

Night was going to fall soon and Daryl, exhausted beyond anything he'd ever felt before, knew he needed to find a place to bunk for the night that would accommodate his injuries and the dog. He'd been doing pretty good at keeping his mind off his situation by planning ahead for the safety of the group or thinking about supply runs, but it was getting hard not to think about how much he hurt. How much he really just…he really just wanted to curl up in that damn bed with Rick there beside him and Judith asleep in her little crib and sleep for the next three days. The thought of Rick made Daryl's heart hurt almost as bad as the rest of him. He wasn't stupid. Chances were…he wasn't going to make it back. The odds were definitely against him.

 

And as if that thought alone brought the Fates down on him like some fucking ancient Greek drama, a sudden piercing pain stabbed into his already bad arm. The force of the arrow going into his bicep and sinking through the flesh of his side was enough to take him down. Hitting the ground jarred every ache and pain he already had back to full Technicolor in the kaleidoscope of agony already coloring his thoughts.

 

"Son of a bitch!" he snarled over the agitated barking of Dundee. His mind began to race, calculating where the shot had come from, that the person doing the shooting was not very skilled with the bow he'd been using and that the arrow hadn't pierced anything of value, going in at an angle and probably glancing off a rib instead of shattering through it. However, it was pinning his arm to his side. The arrow would have to wait. Wouldn't be the first time he'd had to function with an arrow sticking out of him anyway. He'd dropped his buck knife on the way down. Rather than looking for it, he just unsnapped the button holding the Python in place and pulled the gun, letting his hand and the revolver rest on the ground close to his thigh.

 

Dundee moved in to lick at his face and another arrow whizzed past. Daryl growled a soft but sharp, "Go," to the dog who immediately backed away.

 

Given the amount of time it was taking for the would-be archer to get to him, he'd either been a good distance away or up in a tree. The angle of the arrow piercing Daryl's body supported the up in a tree theory. Someone who didn't know how to use a bow properly tree-stand hunting just proved that this guy was an idiot. When the shadow of another person finally fell on him, Daryl squinted up at his attacker. Dundee was a good several feet away, growling up a vicious storm, but holding his ground. If the rustling of dead leaves behind him was anything to go by the dog was pacing, probably uncertain what to do in this situation. Dundee was a farm dog and probably had no idea how to handle a personal protection situation. Daryl just hoped the dog stayed back. He didn't want the animal to get hurt because of him.

 

"Looks like we're going to eat good tonight." The guy's voice was younger. Maybe in his early twenties. He sounded like he might be of some minor ethnicity, but Daryl couldn't see him well enough with the slowly setting sun at the guy's back to really judge. "You look a little tough, but you're the first survivor I've seen pass through in a few days, so you'll have to do." The guy laughed softly. "The others…now, they said I was crazy, trying to hunt so close to the prison. But I told them. I said, there'll be plenty o' people running from that prison now that the fences are gone. And whoever survives, gets to be our dinner. Unless she's pretty. Then she gets to be a good time first."

 

"You're a sick fuck, you know that?" Daryl mumbled.

 

"Oh, so you're going to be awake for this?" The guy sounded startled that Daryl was still with it enough to respond. Daryl wasn't about to tell him that he was a shitty shot. Let the kid think he was dying. "Well, things just got that much more fun for me."

 

The guy started to crouch and that's when Daryl brought the Python up. The recoil jarred every ache, but watching the guy's head snap back as his brains exploded out of the back of his skull was satisfying. The body slumped back and to the side with the force of the bullet's impact. That gunshot was going to bring others given the way shots echoed in the woods. Other Cannibals and Walkers, Earth's new top predators. As if Daryl's life wasn't hard enough. The Python went smoothly back into its holster, and Daryl mentally made a note to thank Rick for loaning him the pistol when he got back.

 

It took a bit of time and a great amount of effort to get up to his knees. Settling with his ass on the backs of his calves, Daryl reached around and felt for the arrowhead protruding from his back. There wasn't time or mobility for a tourniquet. He'd have to pull the damn thing out and then bandage it up. Dundee came forward and pressed close while Daryl set to work.

 

It was completely dark by the time he was fit enough to travel again. Truthfully, he just wanted to lie down and give up, but he knew the longer he was out here, the more likely it was the group was going to come out after him...The more likely Rick would be coming out after him. He'd be damned if he'd let any of them put their lives in danger just for him, especially Rick because the other man had kids to look after. Daryl wasn't worth the kids losing their dad. And with all of these sick motherfuckers in the woods, Daryl hoped that none of the others came across them. Even if he died after, he at least had to get his ass back to the Homestead and warn his people of the newest threat to their survival.

 

With his buck knife secured in its sheath and the Python in hand, Daryl slowly forced himself to his feet. "Let's go home, boy," he repeated to the dog and Dundee set out again. Clearly, the dog had no reservations about traveling in the dark. Daryl didn't like it, but they needed to get away from the body of the idiot before the Walkers arrived. The closer the walking dead got to the point of origin of the gunshot noise the more likely they'd be to smell the blood and work themselves into a frenzy. Daryl wouldn't survive a bout of that. Also, it stood to reason that the Cannibals didn't move around at night, giving Daryl an edge. If he could just make it through the night, he'd probably be within a few hours of the Homestead and maybe he'd make it there without leading the crazy people to their doorstep.

 

It was hard forcing himself onward. At this point he was certain that the only thing keeping him going were thoughts of how he had to get back. He had to keep the others from going out after him. He had to warn them. Hell, he had to know if he needed to rescue Glenn, Maggie and Jason from the Cannibals. If that's what they were. It still seemed a bit farfetched, but he'd heard what he'd heard twice now. There was really no denying it. Just the thought made his stomach turn.

 

Just past what Daryl estimated to be midnight, Daryl called out to the dog, who immediately came back to him where he'd stopped to rest. They would just have to stay here for a little rest and hope nothing came on them in the dark. He just couldn't go another step right then. He was light-headed, nauseous and still hurt everywhere. Not long after he slid down the trunk of a tree he was out cold.

 

This time he was awakened by a cold, wet nose against his neck behind his ear. He squirmed, gasped when all of his aches went painful _and_ stiff, and then he chuckled just a little bit. Dundee looked happy, his tail wagging and his ears straight up with his mouth open in a wide doggy grin. "What's got you in such a good god damned mood?" Daryl mumbled and slowly unclenched his stiff fingers from around the butt of the Python, letting the pistol rest in his lap.

 

The dog barked at him, the sound like a series of gunshots in the quiet woods and then suddenly he heard his name. The sound of running feet in the woods slowly got louder. Daryl's head was swimming and he realized he couldn't raise his voice. He was weak and about to be sick. Thankfully, he thought, it's one o' mine, cuz those assholes don' know me.

 

It felt like an eternity before there was a presence beside him. Michonne knelt in front of him as Carl came up behind her. The boy's voice sounded as if it were coming through cotton as he asked, "Is he gonna be okay?"

 

Michonne's hum was so soft it was more felt than heard by the delirious mind Daryl found himself trapped in. She answered, "I don't know. He looks like he's been shot or something. Lost a lot of blood probably. Go get Carol. I'll stay with him."

 

Carl's feet stomped off at a pounding run. Michonne grabbed his chin, fingers sinking into the scruff of his beard as they forced him to look at her. "Daryl? Can you hear me?"

 

"'M fine." Well. Given the way he'd just slurred he was relatively fine anyway. Michonne sighed and shook her head, pearly teeth flashing against the dark skin of her face.

 

"Yeah. Of course you are. It's only a flesh wound right?"

 

Daryl sniffed in amusement and murmured, "Yeah. Right."

 

The rustle of leaves nearby preceded Carol and Carl's arrival. Carol and Michonne looked him over more closely and then set about redressed him arrow wounds. Once they were satisfied that he'd taken a few sips of water and that the bleeding wasn't seeping through the bandages, they hefted him between them. It was mostly Michonne carrying his weight, but Carol did the best she could with his belt from the left side. He tried his best to take some of his own weight, but he was very little use given his right ankle wouldn't support him and with how dizzy he was.

 

Still, it occurred to him to ask, "Glenn? Maggie?"

 

"They made it back with Jason and some others. We lost one of the horses to whoever attacked you guys," Carol explained.

 

"Jason was pretty beat up too. I guess things started out with knives and he took two of them out with some pretty mean self-defense style boxing before two of them ganged up on him. They had to resort to guns," Carl added from behind them. Dundee trotted along in front. "Glenn says he's going to ask Jason to teach us some moves when he's on his feet again."

 

"One of Glenn's new friends didn't make it. I don't guess you'd know their names any better than we do, but both of the women and some redheaded guy made it back with minimal injuries." Carol grunted as Daryl stumbled, lifting up on his belt more. Daryl bit off a curse and leaned a little more on Michonne who adjusted his arm over her shoulders before continuing. "We started looking for you midday yesterday, but Rick insisted we start from the Homestead and work our way toward the river and not the bridge. Looks like he's getting' t' know you pretty good there, Daryl."

 

"Fuck," Daryl hissed and gripped Michonne's hand where it clenched his over her shoulder tighter. "Stop!"

 

He'd been doing okay up until they'd mentioned Rick. The overwhelming thought of that unlucky bastard out here made his stomach churn that one time more than he could handle and he vomited bile and the little bit of water he'd sipped right onto the ground. Michonne supported his half-bent form, while Carol murmured soothingly and rubbed at his back. Carl appeared at the edge of his vision with a bottle of water. Dundee whined from a few steps ahead, anxious and uneasy.

 

"Just rinse," Carol murmured. "Don't try to drink it."

 

Once he'd rinsed and spat a few times, he slowly eased himself straight again. "Rick's not out here." He knew he sounded demanding, but he had to know.

 

Michonne shook her head. "No. He had a hard time admitting that he had to stay in, but Carl made him see some sense and promised to bring you home."

 

Carl grinned at him. "Told him I couldn't let Judith lose her mom, too."

 

Daryl stared at him for a long moment as those words settled near his heart. It didn't rock him the way it had the first time when Beth had said it. Instead, it kind of put him a little bit more at ease, strange as that was for him. He lowered his gaze after a minute then mumbled a soft, "Little fucker. Y've got way too much sass for yer age."

 

Carol and Michonne both chuckled while Carl grinned at him. Slowly they started forward again. Daryl took a moment to catch his breath, eyes fixed on Dundee's tail where it swayed just ahead of them, then softly told them, "We've got problems. Problems that are gonna make the Governor seem like a fuckin' cakewalk."

 

TBC…


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: If I had a dime from every time I've had to doctor and dress a wound, I'd be filthy rich. This is something I learned both on the farm and in school. Useful but…not really a lot of fun to be honest. Hope no one is squeamish. I got a little bit graphic, but I feel like it's necessary to understand Daryl's responses and dependence. You'll understand once you read it all. PLUS! It adds layers to the Rickyl relationship that's building here. Also, there's a bit of Lori bashing in this chapter. I'm not very fond of her. In fact, you could say I darn near hate her to be honest. I know not everyone shares that opinion and I understand and respect that. Just please bear with it for the story's sake if nothing else. And I know this chapter is a little short, but my poor Daryl-chibi (it's silly but I see the characters I'm writing as little chibified – or miniaturized and cartoonish for those of you who aren't familiar with the Japanese term – people in my head) is very drained after the whole ordeal depicted below. I figure it's fair to let him rest up. lol

Chapter Ten

 

The next day and a half or so – Daryl really couldn't tell how long it took them to get back, he was way too out of it to really keep track – went by in a blur. Carol studiously changed his bandages at least two times that Daryl could remember to keep the smell of fresh blood down as they travelled. The arrow wounds were proving to be stubbornly against clotting, and Carol tsked over them every time she checked them and saw blood creeping through the bandages. Michonne continued to be his crutch the whole time, leaving Carl and Carol to dispatch the few Walkers they stumbled across along the way. He was a little concerned that they might be followed, but even Carl had commented on the fact that Dundee seemed hyper vigilant the closer they got to the Homestead, circling around them in greater and greater circles and pausing every now and then to listen and sniff the air. Daryl reasoned, even in his hazy mind, that dogs could be territorial and protective and that perhaps it was safe to assume that Dundee could be trusted to let them know if there were something off about their surroundings.

 

It was to Daryl's relief they didn't end up running into any more of the cannibals, and on that topic, he stayed quiet. He didn't want to cause any kind of panic. Despite how level-headed these three could be something as freakish as cannibalism was just…a bit much even for him. On top of that, his companions didn't seem eager to press him for information. Michonne and Carol had met his declaration of trouble on the horizon with a shared look of dread, but urged him to wait until he could tell the group in one go and not have to waste his breath telling the story twice. When they stopped to camp for the night in a little almost-cave in a hillside, Carl offered Daryl a bottle of water his lips thinning as he quietly asked, "How bad is it? The trouble, I mean."

 

Carol and Michonne were heating up some cans of beans at the edge of a tiny campfire they'd set alight in a little hole they'd dug in the ground, and Daryl kept his eyes trained on them. He sipped the water and after he was done tipped his head back against the dirt wall he was leaning against. "Pretty bad," he murmured. His head was pounding and just that little bit of water was making him feel a little queasy. His body was exhausted. He was out again before Carl could ask him any more questions.

 

It was a massive relief when they finally reached the barbed wire gate. Carl deftly pulled the tension handles free and let them all through. Daryl heard the rattle of the handles reattaching and then they shuffled on. The pike fence was trickier, Daryl having to sit to the side and lean on a tree while the others moved it, but they were through shortly with the gate replaced and approaching the door that led into the Homestead. Carl trotted ahead, Dundee already sitting patiently by the door, and set about opening up the locks.

 

They were met by the entire clan once they were through, everyone fussing and carrying on about how relieved they were to see him. Daryl kept his head down, uncomfortable with the mass display of affection even though they weren't even touching him. Rick swore and moved forward immediately, pushing past two of Glenn's new friends to relieve Michonne. Daryl's head lolled toward him automatically, and he had a brief flashback to that day on the Greene Farm when Andrea had made the wrong call and tried to put Daryl out of all their miseries.

 

"Yer ribs," he mumbled, feeling guilty for doing almost exactly what Rick had asked him not to and coming back a train wreck.

 

"Nevermind my damn ribs," Rick murmured to him, but Daryl was relieved and noted that Rick didn't protest when Jason came up and took up Carol's former position at Daryl's other side, a stronger hand taking up Daryl's belt while he looped his nearest arm around Daryl's waist below Rick's arm around Daryl's torso. Daryl's sore shoulder remained surprisingly unjostled to the injured hunter's relief.

 

"You look like you went ten rounds with an angry bull then thought it would be a good idea to make it eleven," Jason commented with a smirk tilting up the corner of his split lips. The guy was sportin' a black eye and what had to be a broken nose the skin on the right side of his face puffy and painted a mottled yellow, black and blue. Daryl knew a rifle stock strike when he saw one.

 

"You ain't lookin' much better, cowboy," he grumbled and felt a little better when Jason and Rick both grinned and chuckled.

 

Beth and Maggie rushed past them with Glenn right on their heels. The young man caught the door as the women rushed inside, holding it so that Rick and Jason could maneuver Daryl through. The redneck hissed out a string of curses that would have probably made Merle proud when his sore ankle unavoidably tapped against the stoop of the door. Rick visibly winced and murmured a hasty apology as they moved him through the doorway the rest of the way even more slowly. The rest of their family shuffled in behind them once they were clear and moving through the foyer toward the kitchen.

 

"Lil Asskicker?" Daryl asked softly through clenched teeth as they finally eased him into a chair in the middle of the kitchen's open space. Judith was the only member of the family Daryl hadn't seen yet.

 

"Don't worry 'bout her. She's down for her nap," Rick answered as he started working the gun belt free of Daryl's hips. Everyone else seemed poised and ready to swoop in on him at the first sign of a need for it, making Daryl decidedly uncomfortable and yet grateful that they seemed to be holding themselves back and not crowding him. They were probably well aware that Daryl hated the fuss and were content to let it be Rick that would have to deal with his temper. These people were getting to know him a little too well. Had he been in better shape Daryl would have pushed the man off and done it himself, but if he were honest with himself…he was glad that Rick was just taking charge.

 

"Scissors," Rick requested and Jason immediately put a pair in his hand. "Daryl?" Daryl hadn't even realized that he'd closed his eyes, anticipating the sudden lack of support and subsequent jolt of pain cutting the makeshift sling would entail. Merle would have already had the damn thing cut and gone. He opened his eyes again to find himself staring into Rick's worried blue gaze. "Is anything broken?"

 

"Naw," he answered. "Just dislocated m'shoulder. It's back in already."

 

"You reset your own shoulder?" The look on Carl's face was priceless. Mika was just behind Carl and she made a little noise of vicarious discomfort before turning away and burying her face in Carol's stomach. Carol patted her tiny back and gave Daryl a small, reassuring smile. Daryl chose not to respond, figuring no answer was answer enough.

 

Rick shifted and when Daryl looked back to him held Daryl's gaze for a moment. Daryl dipped his chin just a bit and then Rick was sliding a gentle hand into the sling, cupping his elbow and taking the weight of Daryl's arm along Rick's own forearm before he carefully cut the shirt from where Daryl had looped it under his armpit for extra stability. Jason leaned in and slowly pulled away the cloth and once his arm was free, Rick slowly lowered the limb to Daryl's lap. Glenn was just moving a chair over for Rick to sit in when there was a collective hiss from the audience as the removal of the makeshift sling revealed Daryl's whole upper arm to be one giant bruise the coloring making even the dirtied bandages for the arrow wounds look white. One of Glenn's new lady friends whirled and left, the red-headed guy and the scrappy looking brunette following after her. Daryl wished some of the others would go too, but he held his tongue, refraining from snarling and snapping at them. Merle was whispering over and over again that Daryl wasn't some freak show here for their viewing pleasure but Daryl was surprisingly able to ignore his brother's voice. Somehow he was able to assure himself that they only wanted to show him they cared and that thought eased his temper just enough to keep his mouth in check.

 

Through sympathetically gritted teeth, Jason muttered, "It's possible, given the amount of bruising, that you at least fractured something in there. Let's just hope it's your humorous and not anything that needs to be mobile. Can you move it?"

 

Daryl lifted his arm in response, the movement slow, halting and painful enough that he lowered it a split second later with a hissed, "Fuck! Yeah…a bit."

 

"You mean his arm might be broken?" Maggie looked appalled as she watched on from beside Glenn, like it was somehow her fault that Daryl had ended up like this.

 

"No," Jason corrected her immediately. "No. No. I just mean he might have gotten a hairline fracture or something similar to it. Like a crack in the bone instead of a break. It could just be a bone bruise too. A dislocated shoulder hurts, but he can't hardly move the arm even when he's trying to. The body doesn't want to do any more damage."

 

It occurred to Daryl that Maggie had to know exactly what Jason was talking about, but that Jason probably didn't know that. It seemed like it didn't really matter though. Maggie almost immediately covered her mouth and excused herself. Glenn fidgeted then followed her. Sasha and Bob, who had been hovering in the doorway to the living room, shifted to let the lovebirds pass and then followed them. Carol finally started to herd the children away, placing a hand on Lizzie's shoulder and guiding her out through the foyer with Carl helping by speaking soothingly to Mika about going outside to play with the goats. In the end, only Beth, Michonne, Jason and Rick remained for which Daryl was incredibly grateful.

 

"Vest's next," Rick warned, getting right back to business, and in response Daryl leaned himself forward. Rick was careful as he helped Daryl out of the right armhole. It took Jason and Rick both to help him out of the left. Michonne reached out and took the vest, laying it over the back of a kitchen chair and then Beth moved in with a serving tray laid out with all kinds of medical supplies. Rick met his gaze one more time, his eyes speaking volumes where the man couldn't find the words to soothe away such intense physical pain. Daryl leaned forward a little more and put his forehead to Rick's shoulder. The rest of this was going to hurt like hell and Daryl knew it. One of Rick's hands found the back of his neck while the other twined fingers with Daryl's good hand. The former sheriff's deputy moved in close and gave Daryl's hand a reassuring squeeze while his thumb rubbed circles in the back of Daryl's neck. "You go right ahead and squeeze if you have to," he murmured near Daryl's ear. Daryl gave a gentle squeeze in response and braced himself.

 

"Go ahead," Rick murmured to Jason and then Daryl felt hands unwinding the bandages that Carol had had to leave unchanged on what was probably the second day but could have been a third because they hadn't brought more than a basic first aid kit out with them. The gauze stuck hard to the wounds and Jason only tugged a little before deciding to ask Michonne to wet some wash cloths with warm water so they could soak the bandages from the wounds. It was a long and painful process, but eventually all of the bandages came free. It had sucked but Daryl knew the worst part was yet to come, finally clenching Rick's hand in anticipation of the rest of it.

 

Debriding and scrubbing were horribly painful as the damaged flesh of each of the four arrow wounds was gently scraped with antiseptic soaked gauze until it was fresh and clean. Daryl wondered briefly if he was safely able to lose any more blood, but Jason seemed unconcerned with the fresh flow of red trickling down Daryl's arm and torso. In fact, Jason was apparently not the least bit squeamish at all, sticking a gloved finger wrapped in medicated gauze right into each of the wounds as far as he could and methodically scrubbing around. Daryl ground his teeth, squeezed Rick's hand and bore it in stony silence. The only real indication of his discomfort were occasional grunts and his quick and heavy breathing. Rick remained equally silent, but continued to rub soothing circles into the back of Daryl's neck, keeping his cheek pressed to Daryl's ear. He never once complained about the death grip Daryl had on his fingers.

 

By far, the worst part came when Jason flushed the wounds. The sharp smell of the iodine stung Daryl's nose, but that discomfort was damn near negligible when Jason was busily squirting the thankfully colorless antiseptic over and into the wounds with a syringe over and over again. He might as well have been using fuckin' vodka. Hell, the vodka would have probably hurt less!

 

By the time Jason had finished bandaging the wounds again, Daryl felt wrung out. He leaned heavily into Rick's body and slowly loosened his grip on the other man's hand while trying to breathe slowly and deeply. Rick lifted his head, the sound of someone's knees popping signaling Jason standing himself upright again.

 

"The rest of it's just a bunch of minor scrapes and bruising." Jason's voice was low and soft. "Carol told me that he hasn't really eaten anything. Let's get him changed and settled into bed and see if he can't stomach some chicken noodle soup. I don't want to put meds in his stomach with it being empty, but he's gotta have antibiotics and something for the pain either way. We can wrap that ankle of his once he's off his feet for good. I think it's just sprained."

 

Rick's voice was a rumble with Daryl's forehead pressed into his shoulder like it was. "Do we need to make a run for anythin'?"

 

"No. We've got everything we need right here. It's just a matter of putting it t' good use."

 

Rick lowered his head again, his relief palpable. Chapped lips brushed Daryl's ear as he murmured, "Think y'can stand?"

 

Gathering himself, Daryl slowly leaned back and released Rick's hand altogether. Jason stood just over Rick's shoulder with a real medically approved sling in his hands. With a nod, Daryl let Rick grip his good elbow and hand so he could help Daryl to his feet. It was going to be a long and shitty road to recovery.

 

**********

 

When Daryl awoke this time, he didn't hurt quite so badly, and he was surrounded by the soft quiet of _home_. It was nowhere near silent, but the soft shuffling noises of people in other rooms, the soft murmur of voices…all of it was something one could only call peaceful and warm. Daryl lay there, breathing even, soaking in the reassurance of safety and security. Of family. Then the mattress to his back shifted and someone let out a soft sigh. A moment later, Rick's soft, deep voice filled the quiet.

 

"You scared me," he murmured and it took Daryl a moment to realize that Rick thought he was talking to a sleeping man. "When the others came back without you, I thought for sure…I thought for sure…but then I remembered it was _you_. Probably the toughest man I know. Nothing out there was going t' take you down. Especially since you'd promised to come back."

 

Daryl stayed perfectly still and kept his eyes closed. A part of him felt a little bad acting like he wasn't conscious. Another part, the bigger one, was curious to hear whatever it was Rick was getting off his chest.

 

"Even when Lori was alive…" Rick had a thing for pausing when he was deeply moved by emotion, or carefully picking out his words. Almost like he wasn't sure if he was saying what he wanted to say or at least that he wasn't sure he was saying it right. Daryl had a feeling that Lori was mostly to blame for that behavior with her constant nagging about what Rick would and wouldn't say to her. Rick continued after a few heartbeats of quiet thought. "Y'know, Lori wasn't even my wife at the end. At least, I didn't see her that way anymore. She was just the woman who'd given me an amazing son. The woman who I'd married too young. The woman who condemned me for protecting myself so that I could protect _her_ and the rest of our new family by killing the man who used to be my best friend. A man she'd all but asked me to put down. Really, if we're being honest here, she hadn't been my wife since before I killed Shane. It just took Shane's death for me to see my life a little more clearly. I still felt responsible for her and the baby. Relief and familiarity breed their own kind of love, so I suppose it is possible Judith really is mine…"

 

And there Rick paused again as if he were gathering his thoughts or settling his emotions. Daryl stayed as he was, hoping that Rick wouldn't stop. Lori was like a ghost looming over all of them. Maybe Rick was finally ready to exercise that ghost and free all of them of that concern. "What I'm trying to say is, I loved her for who she'd been for me, but we were a broken marriage even before everything went to hell. I spent a lot of time learning to accept that. You actually made that a little easier. You were there for me at every turn, there to call on when the tough work needed doin', there to watch my back, there supporting my every decision, backing my every move, counseling my every uncertainty. The things the woman calling herself my wife should have been doing. Without you, Daryl, I'd've gotten us killed a dozen times over before the prison. I'd've lost Judith. I'd've lost my mind completely.

 

"After the prison fell? I was completely lost without you. It was Carl who finally convinced me that what you and I shared was something more valuable than what I'd had with Lori. Carl said that he'd loved his mom, but he could see, even back then, what she was doing to me. He said it wasn't fair the way she'd given up on me. The way she was never satisfied or truly grateful. He said even he could tell that she was only tolerating me because she really had no other options given her predicament. I couldn't believe it when my own son told me it was 'cool' with him if I was in love you. Said there were worse people in the world I could have set my sights on. He even mentioned Andrea and told me he was glad I wasn't all about the pretty faces. Carl's not even _fifteen_. It was damn near unbelievable to hear those grown up things coming out of my little boy's mouth."

 

Daryl could just see Rick shaking his head in disbelief. He didn't even have to look.

 

"My own son made me promise to try to make whatever bond we had between us stronger. Made some comic book joke about powerful people making alliances. I don't know. I never could get into all that superhero stuff. Too many far-fetched things in 'em. Doesn't matter anyway because I still promised him. I told him I'd talk to you once we'd found you. That I'd at least try harder to cultivate our brotherhood if nothing else. And then you rode up on that horse like some kind of old west hero…Relief is one thing. Absolute solace…now that's one for the romantic at heart."

 

Rick fell silent again. Minutes ticked by while Daryl thoughtfully chewed Rick's words over in his mind. The light thump of socked feet broke the silence some time later.

 

"He still asleep?" Carl's voice was barely above a whisper.

 

Rick's, when he responded, was the same low murmur he'd been speaking in before. "Yeah."

 

"I just wanted to ask if you wanted me t' bring you your dinner and maybe something for him for when he wakes up."

 

"Thank you, Carl. I'd appreciate it."

 

"It's not a problem, Dad." There was a long moment of silence in which Daryl felt two pairs of eyes watching him. It was uncomfortable, but he forced himself to stay still. After a long moment, Carl asked, "Did he tell you what he thought the threat was?"

 

"No," Rick answered voice still low. "Michonne told me Daryl said something about there being trouble, but that they'd wanted to get him back as quickly as possible and told him to save his breath until everyone was safe at home."

 

"You think it's something that's going to happen soon?"

 

"I don't know, Carl." Rick sighed again. "Right now, let's just focus on helping Daryl get back on his feet."

 

Carl must have nodded because his feet slid on the hardwood floor and then thudded quietly away. Rick scooted further down the mattress and it sounded like he opened up a book. Daryl shifted a little just to get a bit more comfortable and let out a soft breathy sigh. He'd tell them about the cannibals, but only after they'd had dinner. No sense throwing anyone off their appetite. It wasn't like those assholes were likely to find them first thing tomorrow.

 

TBC…


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I love domestic fluff!! Also, yay for Rick taking care of Daryl!! This is my personal headcanon because from what I've seen of Rick, he is the best husband ever and he knew how to treat his lady. At least until she didn't deserve his affections and care anymore. And let's face it. Who deserves Rick's love and care more than Daryl? Am I right? Of course I am! lol

Chapter Eleven

 

Daryl dozed for the rest of the afternoon. He hadn't been able to relax like this since long before the Turn. Lazy days were usually enveloped in alcohol and drug hazes and filled with fuzzy memories of fights and stupid stunts he would never have gone along with if he'd been sober. Honestly, he wasn't one to lie around, so it felt strange lying there in a bed so comfortable it didn't seem real. Even stranger was the comfort he seemed to take in the soft sounds of pages turning every few minutes behind him.

 

Rick hadn't left his side that Daryl was aware of. Beth had popped in shortly after Carl had left and her voice asking Rick if he needed anything had got Daryl to wondering how he'd completely lost track of both her and Michonne some time while Jason had been tending to him. Sure he'd had blood rushing in his ears and he'd been so close to just blacking out like some pansy ass bitch, but he still should have known where both of them had been as Rick had helped him to his feet. He couldn't even remember if they'd still been in the same room with him let alone as near as he last remembered Beth being.

 

In fact, his thoughts still felt pretty disjointed. He was more able to think than he'd been while he'd been doggedly following Dundee's tail home, but he knew he wasn't anywhere near one hundred percent functional and that were he to try to act like he was he would only be putting the others at risk. At least, he would have been if they were still out in the wild and not holed up in the little slice of heaven that the Homestead provided.

 

Yer losing yer edge, little brother, Merle taunted quietly in the back of his mind. Daryl immediately pushed the thought away. Maybe…if Rick was willing to exercise his ghosts…maybe it was time Daryl did the same.

 

Slowly, Daryl shifted and wriggled, but a weight on his left foot stopped him from shifting all the way onto his back without twisting his leg at an awkward angle. Unable to see past the blankets over his immobilized shoulder all that well, Daryl lifted his head to look at the foot of the bed. Rick chuckled beside him when Daryl let his head fall back to the pillow in mild and amused exasperation.

 

"He hasn't left the bedroom since we brought you in. Jason said Dundee was more his dad's dog than his and that the two of them really just formed an alliance when the patriarch of the family passed on. Also said it didn't surprise him that Dundee decided he liked you best." Daryl snorted, but Rick sounded like he was smirking as he added, "Didn't elaborate beyond saying it was the dog's choice and he was fine with it."

 

"How long was I gone?" Daryl asked.

 

Rick set his book aside, the sound of the cover tapping lightly onto the nightstand beside him noticeable in the quiet of the room. He got up and snapped his fingers, but Dundee didn't do more than lift his head and look at Rick. "You went off the bridge about five days ago. Carol, Michonne and Carl found you about three days ago."

 

Daryl tugged his foot out from under Dundee's belly and lifted his head again. "Hey. Get off," he said to the dog. Dundee looked at him for a moment before letting out a very put upon sigh. As the dog slid off the bed like he had no bones he groaned apparently using the bed's height to get a good stretch in. Once on the floor, the dog turned in a few circles before lying down again. Daryl seized the opportunity to stiffly shift and wiggle onto his back.

 

Rick came around immediately and reached under Daryl, sliding a hand under his back and pressing up in a gentle nudge. Daryl looked up at him for a moment, unsure how to react. He'd never had someone to play nursemaid for him before. Closest thing he could think of was Carol bringing him some food while he'd rested in one of the bedrooms at the Greene Farm after his unfortunate tumble off Nervous Nelly. Rick's expression was soft and patient. Daryl figured he might as well give in because Rick would be unlikely to give up. As Daryl sat up, Rick kept his hand spread gently against the spot between Daryl's shoulder blades offering support as he pulled pillows from the middle of the bed so that he could stuff them behind Daryl's shoulders and back. Those pillows had actually been bracing Daryl on his side, probably preventing him from rolling over and jarring his bad shoulder. Daryl settled back when Rick made to ease him into the pillows and found himself to be surprisingly comfortable.

 

"How long was I asleep?"

 

"Only about six hours. Dinner should be done soon," Rick answered and reached over to the nightstand on Daryl's side of the bed, offering him the glass of water that had apparently been sitting there. Daryl looked from the glass to Rick before taking it and taking a ginger sip. "How d'you feel, Daryl?"

 

Licking his lips, Daryl took a quick inventory of his body and found himself to feel pretty good all things considered. Whatever pain killers Jason had in his stash were doing a good job of masking his hurts. He glanced up at Rick again, just a quick flick of his eyes to catch of glimpse of the man's earnest face through his messy hair. "Fine," he said voice soft and took another sip.

 

"You're sure?"

 

"Yeah. I said m'fine. Means I’m fine." The words had almost none of the bite they might have held a couple of years ago. In fact they sounded downright reassuring to Daryl's ears.

 

Rick seemed to accept his answer this time and moved around to his own side of the bed, settling back into his own slightly smaller stack of pillows. He made to pick up his book again, but Daryl's voice seemed to stop him immediately the moment he spoke. "What you said earlier… 'bout Lori…" Risking another quick glance, Daryl saw that Rick wasn't looking at him. Instead the other man stared at his hands in his lap. Silent. "You still see her anymore?"

 

At least Daryl had his water glass to focus on. It was impossible to look at Rick now, knowing he'd probably just asked a ridiculously sensitive question. When Rick finally did answer, the other man tipped his head to the side and sort of half-looked at Daryl, his voice softer than it had been even when he'd thought he was talking to Daryl while he was sleeping. It seemed to Daryl that there was at least a small amount of shame in Rick's voice when he said, "No. Not for a while now."

 

It was now or never and maybe with the knowledge that someone else was as crazy as he was Rick might feel a little less ashamed of it all. Daryl found he wanted to do that for Rick. He wanted to make Rick feel better, too. "I still hear Merle," Daryl offered in an equally soft voice. "Not as bad as it used t' be. Not since I put'im down. But every now an' then."

 

Rick's smile seemed relieved as he reached over and laid a firm hand on Daryl's thigh just above his knee. He didn't say anything, but he didn't react like it was any great surprise that Daryl been hearing his absent brother's voice both before and after Merle was dead. They sat like that in silence for a long time, but Daryl couldn't bring himself to say anything else, and Rick didn't press. It was nice to get that burden off his chest. Rick was probably the best person to understand being haunted by loved ones. Maybe…and this was something Daryl would have cringed to think way back when too, but maybe they could help each other exercise those old ghosts. Wasn't that what people in their kind of…relationship did? A soft knock at the doorframe brought both of them out of their thoughts. Carl and Beth stood in the doorway with trays laden with plates piled high with fresh canned vegetables and baked chicken breasts. The smell filled the room, making Daryl's mouth water. Hurriedly he set his water glass aside, eager to eat after a few days with nothing. Half a bowl of soup didn't count for much by Daryl's stomach's reckoning.

 

"Dinner's done!" Beth chirped and came into the room the rest of the way with Carl right behind her. She went to Rick and settled the dinner tray over his thighs. Carl moved over to Daryl and did the same. Rick muttered a thank you while Daryl only murmured thanks and then the kids were gone, leaving them to eat in the quiet of the room.

 

There were two beer bottles laid neatly one to either side of the plate that were chill to the touch and Daryl silently thanked whoever had made the decision to allow him the drinks. He wasn't some pussy ass city kid. He'd grown up drinking beer even when he had the flu. Hops tasted awful on the way back up, but then what man who'd ever gotten shit-faced didn't already know that? Daryl eyed his silverware for a minute, but opted just to use his fingers. He only had one hand anyway. How could he be expected to use a knife? Rick seemed not to mind. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice anything was unusual. Just reached over, picked up a bottle and twisted the cap off before setting it carefully back on Daryl's tray. Daryl immediately swiped up the bottle and took a long pull.

 

"Now we have a good reason to raid every liquor store in the area for beer and not just the stuff that can sterilize," Rick commented, watching Daryl enjoy the first few swigs before turning back to cutting up his boneless chicken.

 

"Didn't know you liked drinkin' that much." Daryl's voice was a tentative murmur, the realization that he really only knew Rick's character and not much about the man himself making him hesitant to say something that might insult the man.

 

"Probably not as much as you're used to seeing, but I liked to go out to the bars out of uniform every now and then," Rick told him with a smirk. Daryl couldn't help the small amused sound he made and that little noise only seemed to make Rick's smirk turn into an actual smile.

 

They settled into a comfortable silence and when Daryl had finished half his chicken breast, a good portion of the vegetables and all of his first beer, Rick just reached right over and popped the cap off his second bottle for him. Daryl murmured a soft, "Thanks."

 

Rick nodded once and then finished off his chicken, obviously savoring the juiciness and flavor. Daryl couldn't agree more. There was something to be said for having what to his mind was real food. He couldn't wait to bag his next deer so they could can the meat. Canned venison was some of the best tasting meat on the planet.

 

When they had both finished, Rick pulled Daryl's plate onto his and stacked their serving trays before getting up to take them out. Two steps from the bed, he paused and pivoted, socked foot spinning easily on the polished wood of the floor. "Is it okay with you if I bring the others in? I've been told y'have somethin' t'say that the whole group should hear."

 

Rick left as soon as Daryl nodded. Alone with his thoughts for a moment, Daryl took a swig from his beer bottle. Better to get it over with, he reasoned, and the sooner the group knew the whole and certain truth the better. He'd finished the beer by the time Rick came back all of the others filing in behind him. Rick sat in his spot on the bed again, but left his one leg tucked close and the other foot on the floor so that Carl could sit at the foot of the bed with Judith. Daryl was glad to see her and she seemed glad to see him, twisting around in her brother's arms to stare at him.

 

The others lined up at the perimeter of the room, except for Jason who squatted near Dundee so that he could pet the dog. It was interesting to see that Carl was the only person under eighteen present in the room. His presence for this meeting and the fact that Rick had allowed him to go out and look for Daryl spoke volumes as to how much Rick saw his only son as more of a young man than a boy these days. Once everyone was still, Daryl cleared his throat. "Those people that attacked us…they weren't after just our gear and the horses."

 

Everyone fidgeted and cast glances at those standing near to them. The unease in the room was palpable. Feeling uneasy himself, Daryl glanced at Carl – the kid's expression was grim – and then to Rick. The former lawman held his gaze both encouraging him to continue and offering him silent support.

 

"So what were they after then, if not our stuff?" Jason asked from near Daryl's feet. He looked curious, but suspicious.

 

Daryl glanced back to the group and shifted, uncomfortable under all of heavy stares. "They wanted us."

 

"What do you mean they wanted you guys?" Sasha snapped, looking nervous. Of course the women would be upset. They were always targets of predators. Bob reached out and pulled her close to his side. Daryl couldn't hear what he murmured into her ear, but she glanced his way and seemed to calm down a little.

 

"Now, take it easy," Rick added his own soothing voice. "Let's let Daryl finish before we all go jumping to conclusions. Daryl?"

 

And Rick's eyes came back to him. Daryl dropped his gaze to his right hand where it rested limp in his lap. "I came to in a thicket. Dun dragged me out of the water. I musta got knocked out at some point. Some of those assholes strolled right by us. Obviously none o' them can track for shit. Probably can't hunt worth a damn. They're too fuckin' noisy. No animal's gonna stick around hearing them tramp around like they were…"

 

Daryl could see it all again in his mind's eye only this time his head was clear. Those stupid fuckers probably didn't have a choice but to start eating each other and then those that were willing to fall in line helped to bring in fresh meat. They were awkward and noisy, crashing through the fall woods like a heard of drunk elephants.

 

"What are you trying t' say, Daryl?"

 

Rick's gentle voice brought him back from his thoughts. Daryl looked over and was met with a deeply concerned frown. Holding Rick's gaze, Daryl murmured, "I heard them talkin' about findin' me cuz they needed to eat."

 

"You actually heard them say they were going to eat you?!" Glenn sounded shocked and disbelieving.

 

Daryl fixed him with a piercing look. "That's what I said. The asshole that shot me said the same thing. Told me he'd been camped out waitin' for survivors from the prison t' stumble on through before I blew his brains out. Said he wanted t' prove t' his group that he'd played it smart an' picked a good hunting spot."

 

"Oh my god," Maggie murmured, looking pale. Beth's eyes were wide as saucers and she took her sisters hand in a tight grip, sidling closer into Maggie's side. Glen laid a hand on each of their shoulders from where he stood behind them. Sasha nibbled on the hem of her sweater sleeve and looked to Bob who just pulled her into a hug. His facial expression as he stared at Daryl over Sasha's shoulder spoke of a man who found himself deeply disturbed by this turn of events.

 

"So what do we do?" Carol asked into the quiet of the room. "They're moving in really close. What if they find this place?"

 

"I have bug out plans. We'll go over them and do drills. It's never a bad idea to prep for a worst case scenario. We'll set everyone up with a bug out bag too just to be safe," Jason answered her, but he looked to Rick after a moment of holding eye contact with Carol. "But we need to consider that these are just a bunch of moderately armed thugs. Letting them run us off our land is foolish."

 

"So you're saying we fight?" the scrappy brunette from that morning asked looking like a scared little girl faced with the monsters under her bed in the bright light of day.

 

"O' course we fight, Tara. We ain' stayed alive this long by runnin' away," the giant red headed man told her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked to him and then after a moment nodded. The brunette that had fled from the sight of Daryl's injuries was tucked up tight under his shoulder. She looked serious and nothing like she'd looked that morning. Even tough people sometimes couldn't handle living human blood, Daryl figured.

 

"How though?" Carl asked and Daryl looked to him. The boy was all business and Daryl felt a small swell of pride that he probably had no right to. Sure he'd spent some time with Carl, but it had been mostly Rick's influence on the boy that had made him so tough.

 

Beth's voice was soft as she said, "It isn't like they're at our doorstep. We don't know where their camp is. How do we fight what isn't right in front of us?"

 

" _We_ could hunt _them_ ," Michonne offered, finally speaking up. The look on her dark face was fierce. "We got comfortable back at the prison. If I hadn't stopped looking for the Governor, maybe things would have been different. I'm not sitting around and waiting for another tank to roll up to our gates."

 

It was uncomfortable hearing his own regrets spoken aloud by someone else. It stood to reason that Michonne would share in that guilt. After all, he wasn't the only one that had unsuccessfully tried to find the Governor so that they could put him down.

 

Jason's response was quick and reassuring. "Ain't a tank in the world that can get to these walls. Too many trees. They'd have to clear a path and we'd hear them coming from miles away. Nothin' bigger than a military hummer's gonna make it back here and even that's a little wide."

 

"That's good t' know," Rick murmured. He looked deep in thought as he stared at the empty space of mattress between him and his son and daughter, listening to the conversation around him.

 

"Jason?" the red headed man asked. "How secure is this place if a small army of armed men were to approach?"

 

Jason rocked back on his heels and looked up at him. "Granddad and Dad built this place with that in mind, Abraham. The fort walls are taller than standard fort walls. I guess they imported the logs when they ran out of the right size out here. Had to have the horses haul them in from the main road cuz the semi-trucks that brought them here couldn't get back this far."

 

Slowly Jason eased himself upright. "The walls are cemented into the ground about three feet. The rest of the support on the walls are the braces that also support the catwalk around the rim. It wouldn’t hurt us to consider building lookout towers eventually but that can't be done fast enough to handle the immediate threat."

 

"Wanna actually tell us what'll happen if an army of armed men stroll up to our gates now?" the brunette tucked under Abraham's arm drawled. Apparently she was a sassy woman. Daryl made a mental note to steer clear of her as much as he could.

 

"Rosita," Abraham admonished. "All that's pertinent."

 

Rosita rolled her eyes and then looked directly back at Jason. Jason shrugged. "They'd have to have ladders or they ain't getting' in. Grenades, incendiaries and fire arrows are a concern. The first ain't easy to come by these days. The last two…now those can be made from scratch but again… supplies ain't exactly readily available out there. Our arsenal's pretty well stocked, so anyone that comes aknockin' with bad intentions is in for a surprise. Offense-wise, we've got lots of ammo, plenty of firearms, and the option of creating small mine-fields around the perimeter if we were so inclined."

 

"So you're saying we're pretty secure," Rick murmured. Jason looked over his shoulder at him and nodded.

 

"Yes, sir. Nothin's perfect, but I'd say we stand a pretty good chance against even a small army."

 

Daryl glanced around the room only to find all eyes on Rick. It was hard not to look at their leader then. Rick was quiet for a long moment more before finally lifting his gaze and meeting everyone's eyes. "Looks like we've got a few decisions to make; first and foremost being who's going to take inventory of our medical supplies. Never thought I'd see another day where I could say we're fine where food's concerned."

 

The group let out a few soft chuckles, put a little more at ease with the reminder that they were secure here.

 

"Maggie, Glenn and I will go over our medical supplies," Beth offered with a smile and a quick glance at her sister and brother-in-law. When Maggie and Glenn nodded in agreement, Rick nodded back.

 

"Okay. Figure we want to make sure we have enough to last us through until next summer. If these guys are as bad at hunting as Daryl says they are, and I _trust_ his judgment, they'll be thinning their own ranks through the colder months." Rick glanced his way, and Daryl dipped his chin a little both in acknowledgement of the open trust Rick was displaying and in the plan. It was a sound strategy. Hole up and stay put so long as they had everything they needed. No sense looking for trouble.

 

Rick looked back to the group. "Now just because we're safe for now, doesn't mean those men won't try to change that. Jason's already offered up a few weaknesses, but I think we should all start trying to think of ways that we can improve our defenses. We'll hold as many meetings as it takes to make this place as safe as we can. I wanna hear everythin' y'all can think of, got it? No matter how small it is or how uncertain you are about it."

 

"What if they already know about this place?" Sasha asked, her tone urgent. "What do we do then? They could already be planning to attack. There's a lot of land inside these walls. How do we keep an eye on every corner of the fence, if all it takes to get in is a ladder?"

 

"Barbed wire," Daryl answered and all eyes turned to him. It seemed like a simple enough solution. "Like at a prison. We put coils o' barbed wire along the top o' the wall. Maybe even light it up."

 

Jason seemed incredibly pleased with the idea. "We're only using the solar panels to run the house right now. I could rig up the windmills and set aside some batteries to run just the electric fence, but we'd have to make a run into the surrounding towns for supplies. It wasn't something we'd thought to do before."

 

Rick's smile when Daryl's eyes finally landed back on him after taking in the rest of the group's approval of the idea was heart-stopping. "Good plan, Daryl. That'll be a quicker job and might buy us some time if they do come to our doorstep. We'll get that finished before we start the towers."

 

Uncomfortable and yet warmed by Rick's support, Daryl looked back down at his hand in his lap and let the rest of the planning go on around him. It wasn't long before everyone set out to start on whatever it was they'd been assigned to do, leaving only Rick, Carl and Judith in the room with Daryl.

 

"What do we do if we run into these guys while we're getting the supplies?" Carl asked as he set Judith on the mattress between him and Rick.

 

"Y' shoot first. Never mind about askin' questions," Daryl answered him instead. Rick glanced his way and then nodded.

 

"We'll have a meeting to decide who's goin' an' what we'll need. I'll make sure everyone understands that we aren't in the business of inviting people back to the house for dinner," Rick told them. "Why don't you take Judith out to her play pen, Carl? Maybe go check up on Mika and Lizzie and make sure everything's going alright. Carol says Mika really enjoys the time you spend with her."

 

"She also says that Lizzie hates me," Carl muttered put scooped Judith up and stood. "Dad…"

 

Daryl's eyes turned to Carl from his hand at the uncertain tone that rarely came into Carl's voice. Rick straightened and gave his son his full attention. "What is it, Carl? What's wrong?"

 

"I saw Lizzie…being mean to one of the baby goats. She was forcing it to lay down and just…tormenting it a bit. Poking at it with a stick and pushing it around."

 

"Did she hurt it?" Rick's voice was tight.

 

"No. Mika took it away from her and put it back in the pen with its mom. I couldn't hear what they were saying but they got into an argument and Lizzie stormed off."

 

Rick glanced at Daryl and they shared a look of concern. Lizzie was a possible ticking time bomb of mental instability. An issue they'd have to address sooner or later. Daryl made a point to purposefully glance at Carl before meeting Rick's gaze again right away. He saw it in those deep blue eyes when Rick got what he was implying. The man immediately turned back to his son. "Carol's mentioned Lizzie seeming off a few times," he offered.

 

Carl scoffed. "Off? Dad, she's nuts. She thinks the Walkers are still people. That they're just 'different.' She got really, really upset when I told her it wasn't good to get attached to them and that she had to stop naming them because they were dead and not people any more. She majorly overreacted."

 

"Why don' y' talk t' Mika?" Daryl offered. Rick glanced at him, but didn't ask him to be quiet, so Daryl also suggested, "See if she knows what's wrong with her sister."

 

After a moment's thought, Carl nodded. Rick reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let me know what you find out, okay? And continue to keep an eye out. We all have to look after each other in this world. Walkers and cannibals aren't the only dangers we could be facing."

 

"I will," Carl agreed and then took Judith out of the room.

 

Once he was gone, Rick turned his full attention on Daryl. "How're y'feelin'?"

 

"M'fuckin' tired," Daryl mumbled and burrowed back into the pillows behind him, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose a little.

 

"You feelin' that shoulder again yet?" Rick's voice sounded closer and Daryl opened his eyes to find that the man had scooted across the mattress and was leaning his own shoulder against the headboard beside Daryl all but completely invading Daryl's personal space. "You're probably 'bout due for some meds."

 

Daryl glanced away, nervous in that thrilling kind of way with Rick so close to him. His eyes landed on the water glass and he reached for it. To his disappointment, Rick immediately slid back off the bed from his own side and moved over to the dresser that rested against the far wall. He pulled two bottles out of the top drawer and shook some pills out into his palm. Once the bottles were back where they belonged, he made his way over and took the glass of water so that Daryl could take the pills and pop them in his mouth. The rest of the glass of water went down with the pills. When Daryl had finished, Rick took the glass, setting it back on the nightstand before he perched next to Daryl on the edge of the bed. Daryl picked at the edge of the blanket that covered him to the waist, glad Rick had been willing to help him into a tank top before securing his arm in the sling. He'd have felt a lot more vulnerable in only a pair of cotton sleep pants.

 

"Are you really doin' okay, Daryl?" Rick asked softly, ducking so that he could catch the hunter's eyes. Daryl immediately raised his eyes to meet Rick's, drawn as he always was to give the man his respect.

 

"Yeah. Jus' tired an' sore, man." Daryl's heart skipped a little as Rick shifted, leaning forward and bracing his near palm against the headboard of the bed on the far side of Daryl.

 

"Good. I'm done losing people." His voice husky, Rick leaned in just a little closer.

 

"I already told ya. I ain' goin' nowhere," Daryl murmured back and tipped his chin up. Rick erased the space between them in the blink of an eye. Daryl's right hand came up to cradle the back of Rick's neck, shivering when Rick's free hand slid up under his tank to cup the side of his waist. Rick's palm was hot on his skin and he felt a tingling heat pool low in his belly. Rick kissed him breathless, leaving him panting when he finally drew back a bit. Eyes the color of a clear summer sky just before dusk searched Daryl's own pale blue gaze for a moment before he smiled.

 

"I'm glad you kept your promise." If Rick's voice had been husky before he sounded damn near hoarse now.

 

"I had t' return yer gun," Daryl teased, feeling strangely desirable. Rick's smirk made the bottom of his stomach drop. The man looked damn near predatory.

 

"Thanks," he murmured and leaned in to drop a kiss to the corner of Daryl's mouth. Warm lips trailed over Daryl's cheek until they brushed against his ear. "But I wasn't worried about the Python. All I cared about…was you."

 

Gentle teeth nipped at his jaw before Rick simply leaned in and buried his nose against the side of Daryl's neck. Rick breathed in deep, but remained mindful of the injured arm trapped between them. They stayed like that for a few long moments before Rick's thumb rubbed against the sensitive skin of Daryl's side making the redneck squirm and make a noise that was like a cross between a whimper and a grunt. "Don't," he whispered. It wasn't a snap. More of plea, if Daryl Dixon were ever to plead with anyone.

 

Rick chuckled and slowly pulled back. "Who'd've thought rough and tough Daryl Dixon was ticklish," he murmured and leaned in to press a lingering but chaste kiss to Daryl's lips. Daryl pressed into it until Rick pulled away. "I'm gonna go getcha a refill on that water. Need anything else?"

 

"Naw." Daryl shook his head and slowly let his hand slide from the back of Rick's neck. The loss of contact wasn't a happy thing. In fact, when Rick leaned back and rose from the edge of the bed, Daryl found himself almost immediately missing the other man's nearness. It was a strange feeling, actually wanting someone so close.

 

"Be right back," Rick told him with a small smirk. He turned and Daryl watched him walk out of the room. If his eyes lingered on Rick's ass until the man was out of sight…well, that would stay between Daryl and Dundee.

 

TBC…


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this catches AO3 up with my Tumblr and FF.net accounts. The chapters will now be posted alongside those two sites as I finish them.
> 
> Author's note: Imma say it again. I love domestic fluff. *happy sigh* Plus I'm not just writing an adventure story. I'm writing a Rickyl romance too, so there's gotta be action and intimacy….aaaaaaand this kind of rambling is what happens when I'm so nervous about the season 4 finale (that I can't f'ing watch until TOMORROW!) that I just can't deal with my feels any other way than to make some of my own feels about Rick and Daryl (and co.). So ha! Uhg, I'm losing my mind to this show (and loving every minute of it) lol. Also this chapter is very introspective on Daryl's part since the story is of course all in his PoV. I hope I don't bore anyone, but I feel it's all relevant to him getting to a point where he can comfortably be Rick's eventual-husband and besides he's not having to act/react in the quiet of the Homestead so instead he's having to think... and why the hell am I still rambling. Go read the chapter people. sorry! Ignore me lol
> 
> PS – Baby goats are called kids! A piece of info you'll need to know for this chapter if you didn't already.

Chapter Twelve

 

It was strange, Daryl decided, how far he'd come from the half-feral, white trash redneck he'd been when he and Rick had met for the first time. Looking back, it was amazing that Daryl hadn't killed Rick a time or two. Just as amazing as it was that Rick hadn't killed Daryl a time or two as well. The start of their relationship had been rocky at best, but it was as if there was a type of magnetism between them. No matter how hard Daryl had tried to keep his distance, Rick's patience, trust, honor and general respect for others had drawn Daryl in like a moth to a flame. The man's integrity was practically a wonder of the world. Rick was everything he'd ever wanted in a brother, in a father, in family period. While others saw Daryl as valuable for or found affection for him for a few of his parts like his skills and tenacity, Rick wanted him as a whole. The man had wanted everything Daryl had to give from the moment they'd first met. The man had said so over and over. It was only now that Daryl finally understood the deepest meaning behind Rick's almost overwhelming need to have Daryl at his side. Well…it was probably just a progression, but looking back Daryl didn't see any other path that could have been taken.

 

Daryl couldn't say he was at all disappointed.

 

Slitted blue eyes watched as the man weighing down his thoughts paced the open space of the room. Their bed – and Daryl would never get over thinking of something of his as something that was also Rick's… as something of _theirs_ – was pretty close to Judith's crib where they'd put the baby bed against the far wall from the bedroom door. It left a large open space on Daryl's side, giving him a perfect view as Rick tried to soothe his fussy daughter.

 

"I think," Rick murmured, pausing to shush the little girl when she started to make the fussy noises again. When she quieted once more, Rick continued rocking her, saying, "I think that she tired herself out s'much that she's too tired t' sleep."

 

Rick's eyes never left baby Judith's face. Daryl watched them, voice quiet as he murmured, "Anythin' I c'n do t' help?"

 

Rick shook his head. "No. She's jus' gonna have t' get over it on her own an' close her eyes. I jus' don' want her wakin' up the whole house."

 

"Yeah," Daryl agreed and let his eyes drift shut. The pain killers Rick had been giving him were doing wonderful things to him. He'd never slept in consecutive bouts like this in his entire life. The next thing he knew, he was waking up to Rick sliding into bed with the lights off. Daryl didn't dare speak for fear of waking the baby, so instead he scooted a few inches more toward the middle and leaned back against his pillows again. In turn, Rick slid closer to the middle as well.

 

Voice barely a breathy whisper, Rick murmured, "Y'gonna sleep on your back like that all night?"

 

Daryl turned his head, looking into Rick's face in the darkness. "Don' really have a choice. Ain' enough room for both o' us t' sleep and have the pillows behind me."

 

He didn't have to say why. Rick was thankfully intelligent and could reason out that rolling onto his injured side, shoulder and arm would be a less than enjoyable experience. What did surprise him though was Rick speaking again after a moment of quiet. "I have another solution, if you're willing t' give it a try."

 

Was it just him or did Rick sound a little…mischievous? Playful? No…flirty was probably the best word. Curious, Daryl ran a finger over his lower lip, rolling Rick's words and tone around in his head. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to know what Rick had in mind. No. He _did_ , but…his stomach was a ball of nerves. He didn't know how any of this worked. He had no idea how to be in a relationship at this level. The mushy, intimate parts twisted him up inside when he had been an outside observer. Now that he was right in the thick of it…he didn't really know what to do. But…Rick seemed to understand him. He seemed to know just how far to push before Daryl really got uncomfortable. Rick didn't seem too keen on accidentally backing Daryl into a corner, more than aware of needing to be wary of the infamous Dixon Temper.

 

Heartbeat picking up with the anticipation of what might come of whatever Rick had in mind, Daryl found himself barely able to pull his hand from his mouth when he mumbled, "A'right."

 

Rick didn't hesitate for a moment, pushing himself into a mostly upright position and smoothly scooting closer to the middle of the bed and Daryl. His hand slid slowly under Daryl's back again, and Daryl used his good elbow to help Rick sit him up a bit. He was incredibly thankful for Rick's help. His right arm was still functional but the muscles were just as sore as any other part of him that wasn't definitively injured. Rick removed all but a few of the pillows then helped Daryl to ease back.

 

"Make yourself comfortable," Rick murmured. Daryl was starting to get an inkling as to where this was headed. For just a moment he hesitated, uncertain. There was a lot about this whole situation that, just a few years ago, would have set him into an outright fit. But this was Rick, something that wasn't Merle's voice whispered at the back of his mind. Maybe it was his own inner voice for a change?

 

Slowly, Daryl twisted and wriggled until he was comfortably settled on his right side with his right arm folded beneath his head and pillow. A moment later Rick laid down behind him. One warm, muscled arm slid slow and gentle over the dip of his waist. The action and touch made Daryl shiver, his heart skipping at the first instant of contact and carrying on at that thumping speed from there. Rick moved slow, snuggling up behind him in stages and giving Daryl plenty of opportunity to throw on the brakes. By the time the other man had settled, the full length of Rick's body was pressed to the back of Daryl's his knees tucked close behind the hunter's and all.

 

Rick's breath was warm where it puffed against the back of Daryl's neck, ear and shoulder. One more little wriggle and Rick settled his chin carefully on Daryl's shoulder. "Okay?" he mumbled. Daryl wiggled, resettled and then minutely dipped his chin. The whole situation was…nice. Soothing. With Rick behind him he didn't have to worry about jostling his own injuries. Hell, he didn't have to worry about Rick jostling them either, considering how tightly pressed together they were.

 

Rick let out a small, contented sounding sigh and in that moment Daryl found himself in the middle of a revelation. Rick was one of those men that craved contact. Without it, Rick was irritable and adrift. He needed the reassurance that physical connections gave him to ensure that he knew to his core that those that he loved and cared for were healthy, happy and safe. He'd seen the man be physically affectionate even with a macho man like Shane. Shane had used Rick's need against him a time or two, Daryl realized looking back, to keep the man blind to the snake in the mongoose's nest. False reassurances that everything was right as rain when Shane had really been a building tornado. It probably also explained the internal struggles the man had suffered once Lori had cut him out of her personal space.

 

Rocked by the realization that he was now responsible for this part of Rick's well-being, Daryl lay awake for a good long while after Rick finally drifted off, realigning his mental sense of self. Could he really do this? Human contact for him had been nothing but pain and heartache, rejection and degradation. At least for most of his life. Really all of his life until he'd become Rick's right hand man. It wasn't until his self-made family was formed that Daryl found other kinds of human contact _could_ , in fact, actually be directed at him. To this day it was still a little hard to accept a friendly pat on the shoulder by even someone as unassuming and gentle as Beth as nothing more than just that.

 

Rick's arm tightened just a fraction around Daryl's waist and warm lips pressed into the top of Daryl's shoulder. Rick's breathing remained even, proving the man to still be fast asleep. Even out cold, Rick still sought more points of contact with the man he was curled so adoringly around. Daryl let out a long, slow sigh. It wasn't any real hardship to feel like he felt right then. Wanted. Protected. Needed. If this was what Rick asked of him, even if Rick asked for a little more, Daryl didn't believe for a second that he could deny the man much.

 

Truth be told…

 

He needed Rick just as badly as Rick always proclaimed he needed Daryl.

 

Rick shifted one more time, readjusting the arm he was laying on by sliding it beneath the pillows. It bunched the pillow beneath his own head and supported Daryl's beneath his pillow. Not needing his own arm to support his neck any more, Daryl carefully pulled his arm from beneath his pillow and leaned back into Rick's body, allowing himself to lace his fingers with Rick's where they hung limply against his stomach. Rick's reaction was immediate, the former lawman's fingers closing on Daryl's the moment their skin touched. The other man finally seemed to settle completely, all nervous energy draining from him the moment he clutched Daryl's fingers. Daryl felt the warm, dark blanket of sleep finally creeping up on his overactive mind. Without struggle, he closed his eyes and sank into dreamless sleep.

 

When Daryl woke in the morning, it was to the gentle caress of Rick's thumb sliding back and forth over the side of his hand. It was impossible to guess how long Rick had been laying awake behind him, but the presence of the man behind him was nothing but content.

 

"Time is it?" Daryl mumbled and squeezed Rick's fingers once before pulling his own gently free so he could rub each sleepy eye in turn.

 

"Time for your next dose o' meds. It's early enough that no one's come t' get us for breakfast. You feel up to getting' up an' about a bit today?" Rick didn't seem in any real hurry to get up and movin', but he did scoot back a bit, allowing Daryl to slowly shift more onto his back. Daryl's head was still pillowed on the other man's arm and he wondered briefly if Rick still had feeling in the limb. Rick didn't seem bothered, even if he didn't, so Daryl opted not to ask. The look on Rick's face would have stopped him anyway. There was so much affection and…something stronger in that expression that Daryl had to swallow hard.

 

"Yeah," he whispered, hoarse from a throat gone dry.

 

The arm muscles beneath Daryl's skull shifted as Rick bent his elbow so that he could gently brush Daryl's bangs away from his eyes a little. Daryl blinked and Rick smiled broadly probably at whatever look Daryl had on his face. The gesture was tender. Rick's expression was so open and affectionate and…

 

"Gotta take a piss," Daryl mumbled and pushed himself up much faster than was probably wise. He felt terrible for running out on Rick once he'd made it to the bathroom, limping quickly and determined not let Rick see his cheeks flaming deep pink at his cowardice, but it had been a knee-jerk reaction to remove himself for such a deeply emotional moment. It had all seemed to be just…too much. Too overwhelming. Hovering too close that one thing that really sent frissons of fear up Daryl's spine because if he fell into that tangled mess of emotions, he had no idea if he'd survive. Or if Rick would. That was dangerous territory for anyone involved but most especially anyone named Dixon.

 

Knowing he couldn't hide in the bathroom forever, Daryl finished his business and then tugged his cotton sleep pants back up. This time, he limped slower, regretting his hasty retreat every step of the way. Rick was leaning against the dresser to the left of the door when Daryl finally emerged into the bedroom again. He had a fresh glass of water in one hand and Daryl's pills in the palm of the other. If he was upset about Daryl's sudden flight response, he didn't show it. He just carefully dropped the pills onto Daryl's palm and then handed him the drinking glass after.

 

When Daryl had drained the water, Rick offered to take the glass, and then turned away. For a moment, Daryl thought that maybe Rick was upset with him after all, but it wasn't a moment later that Rick was stepping right back up to him from the other end of the dresser with a single crutch in his hands. "Let's get this adjusted for ya. It won' be comfortable, but it's better than hurtin' while you're movin' around. An' I know there's no way we'll convince you to stay put for much longer. There's only so much them pain killers can do t' keep a man like you down."

 

Daryl nodded and motioned Rick over eager for the freedom of mobility. Rick stepped right into Daryl's personal space and sized the crutch up to him by tucking it under his right arm. It took a little effort but eventually Daryl hobbled out into the kitchen just a step behind Rick with the aid of the crutch.

 

They were greeted by a sleepy eyed Beth, holding Judith at the table while the baby nursed happily on a bottle. Daryl wasn't sure when Judy had been handed off to Beth and he didn't really want to think about it.

 

"Mornin'," the girl greeted them. "I was gonna make pancakes and sausage for breakfast again, but then I thought maybe omeletes instead because we have so many eggs."

 

"Omeletes would be perfect, Beth," Rick told her softly and reached out for his daughter. Beth transferred Judith into Rick's arms with minimal fussing and Rick settled in her now empty chair. Once all of the shuffling was done, Daryl made his way over to the chair at the head of the table. Rick looked up, just a glance as Daryl made his way over, and thoughtfully kicked the chair out for him, allowing Daryl to simply ease into the seat instead of allowing him to struggle with the chair and his crutch.

 

Daryl hadn't been seated for more than a few heartbeats when the sound of a gunshot cracked through the still air of the morning. Rick and Daryl locked eyes for the briefest of seconds and then the bottle went to the table despite Judith's protests, and Daryl took the baby girl with his good arm holding her close to his chest. She wailed, unhappy with the change in circumstances and not yet satisfied given how little of her bottle she'd finished, but Daryl shushed her and murmured, "Go," to Rick. Beth came to stand at Daryl's shoulder as Rick hurried out of the kitchen. The sound of Rick yanking something heavy off the coat pegs giving Daryl a moment of relief. He had to have grabbed the Python and its gun belt. Rick wasn't stupid enough to go out unarmed. The storm door slammed as he exited the house at damn near a run.

 

Daryl stared after him, a tight knot clenching in his chest.

 

"Do y'want me t' finish with her?" Beth murmured after a few moments had passed. She was fidgeting and anxious. Daryl glanced up at her and then looked back down at Judith. Lil Asskicker had quieted quickly in Daryl's arms and was now staring up into his face with wide, curious eyes. She needed her dad and it was Daryl's job to make sure she got to have him. A slight nod of his head and Beth was reaching in to take her again. As soon as she was seated with the baby, Daryl pushed himself to his feet and started making his way out of the kitchen. Beth's voice didn't even stop him when she called out, "Y' can't go out there like that! Daryl!"

 

He made sure that the storm door didn't slam this time and carefully eased his way down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. A quick glance over the gate and person sized entrances proved that they were still intact. A sudden wail drew his attention to the large horse barn's loft. Hurrying himself along was hard with the crutch but he didn't want to just drop it. If there were Walkers, hell if there were even Cannibals, he'd need some kind of weapon. Raised voices had him limp-running, carrying the crutch instead of actually using it, and before long he was making his way up the stairs and into the loft at a hopping run.

 

The scene he burst into was…awful. Rick was kneeling in front of Carl off to one side talking quietly and urgently to him. Carl's face was hidden in the shadow of the Sheriff's Deputy hat, so it was hard to guess what was going on between him and his dad. Mika was clutching tight to Carol who looked as though she'd seen a ghost. The once-battered woman's eyes landed on Daryl and her face just crumpled. She folded around the little girl and shook with tears. Movement in the open doorway of a room with a plaque claiming it was for tack drew Daryl's eyes to Jason. Jason came out, took one look at Daryl and shook his head. Daryl made to step closer, but Jason moved forward first, meeting him as soon as he was fully onto the floor and away from the top of the stairs.

 

"What?" Daryl asked, eyes glancing to Rick where he was holding tight to Carl's shoulders, the pair of them whispering fiercely to each other.

 

Jason followed his line of sight and then sighed, looking back to Daryl. "Place is a mess. Carl couldn't find Mika. Guess they had come up with some kind of activity with the goats and were going to set it up before breakfast. He went looking and found her in the tack room there with her sister."

 

Daryl glanced to Mika eyes searching for signs of blood or injury. "She okay?"

 

"Mika is," Jason answered. "About three of my kids, four of my chickens and two of my adolescent ducks aren't." Daryl's eyes jerked back to Jason and the younger man's mouth thinned. "Lizzie won't be a problem anymore. Carl saw her raising a knife to Mika and eliminated the threat." Jason dropped his voice a bit and put his back to the others, leaning a little closer to Daryl. "If you ask me, he made the right call. Ain't no help for the mentally deranged in this world."

 

Daryl nodded, but his eyes had drifted back to Carol and Mika and then on past them to Rick and Carl again. Rick had his son in a tight hug which the boy seemed eager to return, but his eyes were already on Daryl. The hunter felt Jason pat his shoulder, murmuring something about getting a bag so that he could start cleaning the room up, but Daryl was already moving toward Rick and Carl, drawn by the look in Rick's eyes. As soon as he was close, Rick reached out. Daryl went down to his knees a little hard, but his balance was all fucked up with one arm being completely immobile and the opposite ankle being damn near useless. Rick's hand steadied him and it was then that Daryl noticed that Carl was crying soft, quiet little hiccupping sobs. Rick looked broken and lost.

 

The crutch Daryl laid on the ground and the noise brought Carl's head up. The hat had fallen forgotten to the floor for now and for one moment, even with his longer hair, Daryl saw in him the young boy he'd first met when he and Merle had come across the Quarry Camp of survivors. Carl sniffed and rubbed at his nose with the back of his sleeve.

 

"Hey," Daryl murmured. Carl glanced his way and Daryl nodded to him just as he would have done were it Rick in Carl's position. "You did the right thing. Lizzie wasn' right and she would have hurt Mika if you hadn't stepped in. What if she'd gone after Judith?" Carl's eyes widened for a moment and then his mouth thinned and his chin sort firmed. "We protect our own," Daryl told him. "No matter what. We save the ones we can and show mercy to the ones we can't."

 

"It was quick. I made sure t' aim for her head. She won't…won't be coming back," Carl muttered, breath hitching a little with his exacerbated emotional state.

 

"That's mah boy," Daryl murmured approvingly and reached up out to ruffle Carl's hair. "Takin' care o' the business when it needs doin'. Never back down, boy."

 

To Daryl's surprise, Carl threw his arms around Daryl's waist and hugged. It was a little painful, and to be honest Daryl's knees were getting sore having to kneel with the two Grimes men, but he didn't protest. Instead he laid his good hand on Carl's shoulder and looked to Rick. The former deputy had his hand on his son's back. Rick lifted his eyes to meet Daryl's and the look in his eyes was fond and yet still sad. Daryl understood. Rick was just as tired of losing their people as he was. At least Carl had kept the kill count to a minimum…if one didn't count barnyard animals.

 

Carol and Mika left a moment later, their feet loud on the old stairs. The sounds of rustling in the tack room signaled that Jason was likely already hard at work cleaning up the mess in there. Carl, upon hearing the rustle of the bag, released Daryl and got slowly to his feet. Rick followed and then helped Daryl get to his feet as well. The boy looked tired for his age.

 

"I'll help Jason clean up. You should be resting, Daryl." And with that, Carl picked his hat up off the floor and settled it back on his head. It was as if the boy had picked himself up by the proverbial boot straps and was over his moment of weakness just like that. He stepped past Daryl and made his way into the tack room, Jason's voice a murmur too low for Rick and Daryl to hear whatever he said to the boy.

 

Rick stared after his boy for a moment and then looked to Daryl. Rick looked shaken, but relieved at the same time. Softly, he murmured, "It's the first time he's cried over having to kill someone in a long time."

 

Daryl nodded once and reached out, clapping Rick's shoulder and then squeezing the tense muscle he found there. "He's not lost," Daryl assured him. "He's just tough. Like his ol' man."

 

Slowly, Rick nodded as if he was gradually coming to accept that. After a moment, Rick looked away and sighed. "Let's get you back inside," he said after a few more moments of silently staring after his son. Daryl didn't even get a chance to stoop for his crutch. It was as if a switch had flipped and the quiet man Rick had been a moment ago was gone. He snatched up Daryl's crutch and moved to the hunter's right side, sliding an arm around Daryl's waist and leaving Daryl no choice but to drape an arm over Rick's shoulders.

 

As they made their way back to the house, Daryl reflected on the last few minutes. It would be hard for everyone to accept. They'd have to keep a close eye on Carl, make sure he knew he could talk to either of them if he started feeling upset or unstable and that admitting those things wasn't a weakness. The storm door creaked as they made their way through it together. Daryl had to stand on his own for a moment so that Rick could unbuckle the Python's belt and hang it back up on the coat pegs by the front door. The crutch was leaning against the door jamb so Daryl just leaned over and snagged it. Rick glanced his way and then turned moving independently out of the foyer and into the kitchen. Daryl appreciated the autonomy and made his way after Rick as a sedate pace.

 

Judith was in her playpen when he made it into the kitchen and she giggled and squeed up at his when he leaned over the one of the walls to peer down at her. She had her giraffe stuffed animal and was squeezing its neck and clapping her other hand against its head. Daryl smiled down at her and then looked up to where Rick sat with his chin in his semi-folded hands. Carl wasn't the only one that might eventually need to talk.

 

Beth looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. Daryl made his way to the island and leaned against it, figuring Rick was leaving breaking the news to him. "Lizzie's gone. Carl shot her to save Mika."

 

Beth whirled and stared at him, omelet sizzling behind her. "Oh my god, no?!"

 

Daryl just looked at her for a second more and then dropped his eyes. He could feel Beth's eyes study him for a moment before Daryl'd had enough and pushed off the island so he could reclaim his seat at the table. The crutch hooked nicely on the back of the chair. Rick reached out under the table and gripped Daryl's knee. Daryl in turn gripped Rick's hand. Beth's eyes had followed him the whole time. A moment later, Michonne, Maggie and Glenn trailed into the room and the feeling of Beth's eyes left him. Daryl was glad he could leave it to Beth to tell them what had happened in a more appropriate way. Their time together after the fall of the prison seemed to have immunized her to Daryl's abruptness for which he was grateful. She and Rick were probably the only two that really took no offense when he got short with them.

 

Tuning out the conversation escalating behind him, Daryl squeezed Rick's hand and took in the small smile Rick sent him for it. Not a moment later, Carl came through and took the seat next to his dad. There was a moment of pause before the boy leaned into his father's side and mumbled, "Jason told me to get out."

 

"Good," Daryl told him and Carl looked up. If Daryl wasn't mistaken and Carl read like his dad, the boy was checking to see if he was being inappropriate. It only took the boy a few seconds to determine that Daryl meant nothing by the word – only a few seconds more than it took his father, who by now didn't even need to look at Daryl to know that he was being sincere in his own way – and closed his head. The hat went to the table top and Carl closed his eyes.

 

Maggie and Glenn slid quietly into the seats across from the two Grimes men. Maggie reached out and gently stroked at Carl's hair. "I'm so sorry, honey," she murmured. Carl didn't stir. Rick glanced down at his son's head and then looked up to Maggie. She met his gaze with a small, understanding and very sad smile. Glenn looked just plain sad and he looked away when Rick turned his eyes on him. Rick didn't stare the young man down, choosing instead to glance at Daryl for a split second before looking back to Carl.

 

"Carl," he murmured. To his father's voice, Carl responded with a soft sound. "Why don't you go use the Jacuzzi tub in the master bath an' relax for a little while. It might make y' feel better."

 

At that, Carl slowly sat up and looked between his father and Daryl. After a second he murmured a soft, "Thanks," and got up from the table, making his way towards the master bedroom.

 

A moment later, Beth started serving them with omeletes and conversation picked up about how much longer it might take Bob and Sasha to get back from the cow barn at the other end of the main compound. Life was moving on despite all of the death that hung over each and every one of their heads. Rick's fingers tightened in his one last time before Rick let his hand go, allowing him to pick up the fork Beth had pointedly laid on the table. Daryl looked around him as he cut a piece of omelet. It was obvious that the rest of the group felt Lizzie's loss, but it was also obvious that they were accepting of the fact that life couldn't always prevail. Putting that first bite of omelet into his mouth was like the start of a whole new life. One in which Daryl Dixon was pretty certain he'd come to finally understand the people around him. Sure they weren't street hardened thugs like the people he and Merle had spent so much time around, but they were survivors willing to roll with the punches and do whatever it took to not only survive in this world gone crazy but to thrive.

 

Maggie and Glenn were feeding each other bits of omelet though the behavior was more subdued than Daryl had ever seen it in the past. Beside him, Rick ate and kept glancing toward the master bedroom, his concern for his son palpable. And Daryl just knew that that concern was for Carl's guilt. Not over Carl's well-being. These were sensible people he'd gathered around him and Daryl thanked whatever powers that existed in heaven that they'd accepted him and let him into their lives despite his original asshole-ish demeanor and his even bigger asshole of a brother.

 

Rick caught Daryl watching him. Their gazes met for a moment and then Daryl gave Rick a small, crooked smile before returning to his own omelet. Rick's knee pressed into his under the table and Daryl felt like it was all one more puzzle piece falling into place in his understanding of his own existence.

 

TBC…


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

 

They buried Lizzie in the yard behind the house in a fenced in little plot of land surrounded by box gardens of wild flowers. Jason's parents had also been laid to rest in the tiny, private grave yard, so – as Mika so innocently and bravely put it – Lizzie wouldn't be alone.

 

"She still has good people to watch over her," Mika said to the cool evening and those around her. She stood beside Carol looking small, and Daryl ached a little for both of them. At least, he thought, they still had each other. Carol said a few gentle words, but Daryl had stopped listening. He understood that other people needed to mourn their dead like this. He hadn't been attached to the little girl. He'd, in fact, been wary of her for a long while. He was here to support those of his family that had loved her. That wasn't to say he wouldn't have done the same for Lizzie as he had for Sophia, but he'd have done it because it would have been the right thing to do and for Carol more than anything.

 

Rick's shoulder over the course of the small funeral had gradually been pressing into Daryl's right arm where they stood side by side. Carl stood beside his father. The rest of their people were scattered loosely about the grave everyone watching in silence as Carol and Mika buried Lizzie. When the last of the dirt had been gently patted over Lizzie's final rest place, everyone made their way back into the house.

 

As a family, they moved into the living room, everyone finding a seat on the two couches and twin recliners. Rick settled in the middle of the three seat beige couch, Carl taking the seat to Rick's right and curling up with his hat in his lap. Beth, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Bob, Abraham and Rosita settled on the large sectional couch that was tucked into the back corner of the room running along the wall separating the kitchen from the living and the very back wall of the house. Michonne took the recliner closest to Carl while Jason settled into the recliner by the doorway. Carol and Mika settled on the floor together and leaned back against the sectional by Beth and Maggie's legs.

 

Daryl didn't even have to glance around, knowing that the only spot available was the one he was looking at beside Rick. It'd been that way since before the prison had fallen. Sometimes he wondered if people had seen this relationship of theirs coming long before he had had any inkling. With great care he eased himself down into the seat and was greeted by Rick tipping just a little bit his way so that their shoulders were brushing again.

 

"I'm gonna go get Judith," Carl announced suddenly and unfolded from his spot on the couch. Rick looked up at him and smirked.

 

"Okay, but yer the one that's gonna change her _and_ put up with her later tonight when she's too cranky t' sleep."

 

Carl shrugged. "Okay."

 

Daryl watched him leave and then glanced around the room again. Everyone was silent, seemingly lost each in their own thoughts.

 

Jason's voice eased into the silence of the room, his tone light but thoughtful. "I'm gonna take the buckboard int' town when we go. Benny and Martin are really well-mannered and well-matched, so we shouldn't run into many problems with it in theory. Anyone know if they're wantin' t' come yet?"

 

"Rosita and I wanna tag along. See what we can do t' start pullin' our weight aroun' here," Abraham spoke up. Beside him Rosita looped her arms around one of his, snuggled up to him and nodded.

 

"Where he goes, I go."

 

Daryl glanced back to Jason who was nodding. "Alright. Tomorrow we start makin' a list of the things we need, the things we want an' things we should stock up some more on. I have an accurate inventory on the food and now, thanks to Beth, Maggie and Glenn, I have one on the medical supplies as well. All suggestions and requests are welcome, but I can't promise to bring home anythin' extreme."

 

Everyone was nodding. Daryl glanced over to Rick and found the man was also watching Jason. Rick glanced over and met Daryl's eyes. His look plainly told Daryl that Rick was impressed with Jason. Daryl's own expression must have said something similar because Rick looked away with a very small smirk playing about his lips. Daryl was incredibly glad that Rick had gone back to shaving, now that it wasn't wasting precious time or resources. He looked younger and less burdened by the world without all the grisly hair on his face. Daryl had taken to trimming his own beard, keeping it up in answer to Rick's own efforts.

 

"Do you think you can bring back some toys?" Mika asked softly from where she was curled against Carol's side. The woman had her arm around Mika's shoulders and was stroking her light blond hair with the other.

 

"I can certainly try, little lady," Jason murmured.

 

Carl's entrance with a sleepy looking Judith put the conversation on pause. Once Carl was settled beside Rick again and balancing Judith in his lap by hugging her to his chest, the conversation picked up again only the topic changed to wistful comments about the things they missed from before the Turn. They were even going around the room, each person taking a turn and relating what they missed the most.

 

Beth said she missed school and was teased mercilessly for a few moments before Maggie cut in saying she missed chocolate more than pretty much anything else. Tara murmured something about a café she used to stop at every once and a while, allowing herself an exotic coffee as a treat when times seemed tough. Abraham said he missed the porn and that earned him a small smack on the stomach from Rosita. The pair of them had been sleeping on the couch they were sitting on, so Daryl doubted they'd had the balls to get up to much since their arrival.

 

Rosita mumbled, "Privacy," pretty much confirming Daryl's thoughts.

 

Carol murmured something about driving with the windows down.

 

Glenn snuggled more into Maggie's sighed and declared, "Pizza fresh out of the pizza house's oven."

 

Bob chuckled when it was his turn. "Televised sports. I do miss my football games."

 

Sasha, who was leaning against Bob, sighed. "I miss my soap operas. They seem so shallow and stupid, but man! They could really suck a girl in with their handsome actors and overly dramatic plots."

 

Everyone laughed and bantered about horrible programming for a moment before everyone turned their attention to the next in line. Michonne, realizing it was her turn, pulled her thumbnail out from between her teeth and grinned. "Professional pedicures."

 

Every woman in the room over the age of fifteen groaned in agreement which sent all of them into giggle fits for a few moments. Carl rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry on Judith's neck. The baby's squeal brought everyone's attention to him. "I miss video games! And junk food."

 

"Crazy cheese _is_ getting very hard t' come by," Michonne agreed nodding sagely as if Carl had spoken some great words of wisdom. The boy grinned at her and then all eyes fell to Rick. The man shifted and rubbed his palms dry on the thighs of his jean, looking uncomfortable under the expectant stares of his family.

 

He looked down at his lap and then half-looked up, eyes darting around the room from beneath his lashes. "I guess I miss…I dunno. I think I miss ice cream the most. Nothing better than a small tub of Ben and Jerry's all to myself. Best purchase I ever made was when I was bored outta mah mind one day while I was out on patrol. A pint of Rocky Road."

 

Smiles bloomed all around them. Beth caught Daryl's eyes when he glanced around to gauge everyone's reaction and raised a delicate brow at him as if to say, 'Oh really?' Even so, Daryl didn't miss the glance Rick snuck in his direction out of the corner of his eye as everyone started talking at once about their favorite ice cream flavors. For some reason, admitting that he liked an ice cream that was normally reserved for emotional women seemed to make him a bit rueful. Daryl leaned a little harder into Rick's shoulder and then looked deliberately over to Jason. The young man was sitting silently, rocking back and forth in the recliner with one foot on the floor and his other ankle tucked up under his knee. Seeing Daryl looking at him, Jason's smile turned into a smirk and the hand that had been semi-supporting his chin dropped to lay along the arm of the chair. Only his pointer finger was extended, the gesture being all the answer that Daryl needed.

 

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. Rick glanced his way seeming startled that Daryl was getting up. Michonne, her attention drawn by the unsteady movement, wasted no time in giving Daryl's attempt at a quiet exit the kaibosh. "And where do you think you're going? It's your turn."

 

Daryl froze and glanced around him. "Ain' no secret I had nothin' t' look forward to before the Turn. Jus' followed Merle everywhere."

 

"You don't miss anything at all?" Glenn prompted.

 

"Alrigh' fine. I miss weed. Y'happy?"

 

Glenn chuckled as did many of the others, the sound fond. "Yes. You can go."

 

Maggie elbowed Glenn while everyone around grinned and started talking about their own experiences with illegal substances. Mika was asleep and Rick seemed unconcerned about Carl hearing about the little life experiences being tossed around, so the mild discomfort faded almost instantly. Daryl beat as hasty a retreat as he could, making his way into the kitchen and to the basement door. The soft sound of feet behind him brought his attention to Jason moving over to the cabinets. Daryl was envious of the kid's easy escape, the others too distracted to notice someone who wasn't laid up with a crutch and a bum arm, sneaking away. Daryl left him to quietly pull bowls and silverware out while Daryl left his crutch by the door and made his way down the steps.

 

The lights in the basement flickered on without trouble – something Daryl wasn't sure he'd ever get used to again – and then he made his way to the large chest freezer. The lid opened with a crackle and Daryl left it up so that he could leave it and pull the five gallon bucket of vanilla ice cream out. He set it aside, closed the lid and then picked the bucket up again. The trip up the stairs was slow, but Jason was there at the top to take the bucket from him so that he could rest a moment before tackling the last two steps. He snagged his crutch again once the door was closed and followed Jason to the island.

 

Jason heaped a bowl full and set it in front of him. Daryl looked at it for just a moment and then determinedly laid his crutch aside again. He couldn't begin to express how grateful he was that Jason wasn't doing everything for him. Like Rick, the kid seemed to understand Daryl's inherent need to be responsible for himself. With bowl and spoon in hand and Jason behind him, Daryl limped back to the living room where people were exchanging short little stories – wild, funny, stupid, or just noteworthy… anything seemed fair game – about the days before the Turn. Luckily, they'd all been so preoccupied that despite Rick, Carl and Michonne being in line of sight of the kitchen, they hadn't noticed any of the goings on in the other room.

 

Everyone fell abruptly silent when Daryl hobbled up to Rick.

 

Rick looked up as Daryl's shadow fell over him. Just within his line of sight, Daryl caught the expression on Carl's face. The boy's grin was heavy with amusement and affection even as his eyes silently coveted the bowl in Daryl's hand. Rick on the other hand looked confused and pushed himself into a more upright from the comfortable slouch he'd slipped into.

 

"Daryl, wha'…where did you…?"

 

If he hadn't been so off-balance, he'd have been fidgeting already. He glanced back at the soft snort behind him to see Jason was leaning in the doorway, watching the exchange with amusement on his face. Turning his full attention back to Rick, Daryl mumbled, "Jason gave me an' Beth some the first night we was here. You said you missed ice cream. Here."

 

Gingerly, Rick took the bowl and stared down at it in his lap like he just didn't know what to do or say. Daryl fidgeted for a moment then sank onto the couch, unable to stay upright any longer. "It's gonna melt," he cautioned feeling embarrassed for having caused a scene. Rick glanced at him and then carefully lifted a spoon of the creamy cold confection up to his mouth. As soon as the spoon hit his tongue, he closed his eyes and let out a little, tiny groan.

 

"It's good right?" Beth spoke up. "Jason made it himself. From the cow's here!"

 

Daryl glanced her way and then took a quick look at Jason who was smiling fondly at the blond young woman. If those two didn't end up in some kind of relationship before too long, he'd be very, very surprised.

 

"So," Michonne said primly from the chair she sat in as if it were a throne. "Is there any more of that?"

 

"Yeah," Carl chimed in. "Cuz if there isn't, you're totally sharing that with me right now, Dad."

 

Rick immediately turned his back to Carl and curling in toward Daryl, hovering over the bowl. "Nope," he said simply, grinning when he heard Carl's indignant half-what and spooned some more into his mouth.

 

"Alright. Alright. There's a whole damn five gallon bucket. Let's not start a fight over one little bowl," Jason announced, his tone playful and amused. In the blink of an eye, Daryl found he and Rick alone in the living room. Carl deposited Judith on Daryl's lap without so much as a please and thank you. With only one free arm, Daryl found himself clutching the baby close much to Judith's apparent delight. The little girl smacked at Daryl's wrist at her belly, giggling happily.

 

Rick slowly straightened back up and pulled the bowl close to his chest. After a few more spoonfuls, Rick glanced over at Daryl and softly cleared his throat. Daryl met his eyes by tearing his gaze from Judith. Without a word, Rick spooned up some more of the ice cream and raised the spoon to Daryl.

 

"That's yours," he started to protest, but Rick just shook his head.

 

"You can and y'will. I _want_ t' share this with you." Who could argue with logic like that? Daryl gave Rick a good thirty second stare before leaning in and taking the bite. The ice cream was just as good as he remembered it being. Rick seemed to think Daryl having his mouth full was a good time to say something, opening with a softly spoken, "Thank you."

 

When Daryl nodded, sliding his tongue around to catch all the flavor he could, Rick added, "You didn' have t' go t' all o' the trouble."

 

"It's what we do," Daryl responded softly and took the next spoonful that was offered to him. Rick dipped the spoon back in the bowl, but instead of pulling it free he leaned in and caught Daryl's lips in a quick kiss. Rick tasted like ice cream and his lips were chilled, causing Daryl to shiver a little. Pulling back, Rick smirked at him and then pulled the spoon out of the ice cream again. This time he offered a pea sized amount to the little girl in Daryl's lap. Judith opened her mouth, having gotten used to eating baby food. She shuddered at the touch of the cold cream in her mouth and looked to Rick with huge eyes, startled by the unexpected chill and flavor. Daryl let out a soft chuckle when the little girl made a grab for the spoon. Rick jerked it away and tsked his daughter.

 

"No. Be patient," he told her and got a little more on the end of his spoon for her. She giggled in delight, some of the melted cream slipping down her chin and dripping onto Daryl's wrist. Rick tried to scoop most of it from her chin with the spoon and called, "Hey, Carl!"

 

In typical teenage fashion, Carl hollered back, "What?"

 

"Bring me a towel. Judy's makin' a mess on Daryl!"

 

"Okay!" Carl called back and a moment later he appeared with a towel. "She like it?"

 

"A little too much," Rick admitted as Judith smacked at the towel and tried again to grab for the spoon. Carl chuckled.

 

"She's takin' after us," he observed with just a hint of pride and then grinned at them before turning and heading back to his bowl in the kitchen.

 

Rick picked up the towel and wiped up the mess on Daryl's arm and his daughter's face. "Shoulda had him bring a second spoon," the hunter murmured, eyeing the drool pooled in the spoon's belly. Rick immediately wiped the spoon clean with the towel.

 

"Y'get used t' it," he murmured and took another large spoonful of ice cream into his own mouth. Daryl didn't hesitate to take the next spoonful when it was offered his way.

 

Later, after Judith had been laid down for the night and the rest of the household had scattered, Daryl settled back against the headboard of their bed, sinking into the pillows with a low groan. Rick emerged from the bathroom wiping his face with a hand towel and looking comfortable. It was noticeable in the easy way he moved about the room, moving first to the crib to check on Judith, and then practically swaggering over to the dresser so that he could pull out a pair of silk gym shorts. Daryl politely averted his eyes as Rick dropped his current pair of boxers and stepped into the fresh pair of shorts.

 

Rick sauntered back to the bed and slid in after that. Daryl stared at the discarded hand towel he'd left on top of the dresser. "Did y'take your pills?" Rick murmured and settled on his side so he could watch Daryl from the pillow he tucked over his arm and under his head.

 

"Yeah. You were takin' a piss." Rick smirked at Daryl's familiar words.

 

"Still feelin' pretty good?" the former deputy asked voice soft.

 

Daryl ran a thumb over his lower lip. "Yeah. Bandage change wasn' too bad neither."

 

"Good." Rick nodded just a little and then yawned.

 

Taking that as an invitation, Daryl slid down and rolled to his side, scooting back a little. Rick wasted no time in scooting up behind him and tucking his knees into the backs of Daryl's as his arm looped the redneck's waist. The full body contact still kicked his heartrate up a notch and the warm breath against the back of his ear brought that low curl of heat into his gut, but Rick's content sigh and even breathing was by far the most profound aspect of the moment. It warmed his heart in ways he hadn't known were possible until he'd met this man and his children. Closing his own eyes, Daryl allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.

 

He was woken in the middle of the night by a looming presence reaching over him. His first thought was to protect Rick, and he rolled, pushing the other man back and half beneath him while he reached up with his right hand and snagged the wrist of their attacker. Rick's arms immediately came around him, one looping his throat protectively while the other hovered in midair between Daryl and the intruder.

 

"Easy," Jason murmured into the darkness. "I didn't want t' wake you both, but now that you're both up, I need you to come with me. Bob and Sasha were on watch on the cat walk and said they spotted flashlights bobbing in the dark."

 

"We'll be righ' there," Rick mumbled, hand falling limp over Daryl's still pounding heart. Jason pulled free and made his way out of the room. Rick buried his face against the hair tousled up at the side of Daryl's head. The hand on Daryl's chest rubbed a haltingly awkward path from over his heart to down to his ribs and splayed there. Rick let out a small groan and kissed Daryl's temple before helping Daryl to sit up. Rick saw to it that they were ready to go about the same time and then led the way out onto the front porch.

 

Jason motioned them over to the stairs on the house side of the big gate. Sasha leaned on the railing, waiting for them. Bob was probably up top, keeping an eye. As they approached at a pace Daryl found easy to keep up with, she straightened. "They're still visible," she told them. "It looks to me like they're looking for something."

 

She was already making her way up the stairs and the others fell into step behind her. Rick hovered at Daryl's side always staying one step below him. Daryl appreciated the concern and he showed it with a glance when they reached the cat walk. Rick gave his good shoulder a squeeze then moved past him to the wall.

 

The sharpened points of the fortress wall came right up to Rick's chest and he looked out into the night darkened forest with very little concern for being seen. Daryl came carefully up beside him and watched as tiny spots of light danced in the darkness. Whoever was out there wasn't yelling, but after watching the bobbing lights for a bit it could be assumed that they were searching for something or someone. Given the distance and clarity of view, whoever they were they were not only close – too close for comfort – but also had to be on the dirt path leading in. Daryl's guess put them close enough to the barbed wire fence that if they hadn't found it already, it would only be a miracle that prevented them from finding in the next hour or so.

 

"What do we do?" Bob asked softly.

 

Daryl and Rick shared a look. The tough times just never seemed to end. Jason sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck over Rick's shoulder, and behind Daryl, Sasha murmured, "What _can_ we do?"

 

TBC…


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I love this chapter. Officially, I think it's my favorite. You'll see why towards the end. Rickyl FTW!

Chapter Fourteen

 

If nothing else, they'd learned.

 

Leave nothing to chance. Cover all your bases. Every opinion is important. Never look at a situation from just one or two angles. Always be proactive. Have a backup plan. Plan an escape route with a meeting place. Survivors' rules for a group who'd seemed to be doing nothing but.

 

Rick went around waking everyone up while Daryl and Jason headed to kitchen. It never ceased to amaze Daryl how thoughtful the kid was, putting the coffee pot on and getting it running before anyone had even made it downstairs. The rich aroma filled the kitchen air and the scent greeted each person as they trailed into the kitchen, looking sleepy and worried. Daryl sat quietly on a chair at the island, leaning back against the marble top's edge, with his crutch resting beside him. Rick was one of the last ones down, followed closely by Beth and Maggie.

 

"Glenn'll be just a minute. Then we'll get started," Rick informed them his manner all kinds of serious business. None of them protested, simply found their seats and waited patiently.

 

"Who wants coffee?" Jason asked and pulled out the appropriate number of mugs for the show of hands. "There's fresh cream in the fridge and sugar in the canister on top of the fridge."

 

One by one, each of the other members of his family got up and picked up a mug. Rick, being the first to go after a cup, pulled the sugar down from on top of the fridge and the cream out, setting both on the island a seat down from where Daryl rested. Their eyes met briefly, and Rick gave him a small, almost happy smile before taking the seat right next to him. Together they stared out at the room.

 

Glenn arrived at last and snagged the second mug Maggie had prepared for him as he moved around to stand behind her at the table. Rick looked at Glenn and when the Korean man gave him a nod, Rick opened with a weary note in his voice.

 

"First and foremost, I don't want anyone t' panic. Jason assures me over an' over that this place is incredibly secure an' it would take a lot of forethought an' preplanning for even a small army t' get in here." He paused and looked around. From what Daryl could see, everyone looked worried, but no one seemed out of hand in their concerns. Rick apparently drew the same conclusion and continued. "Sasha and Bob are on watch tonight. In the distance, they noticed some bobbing lights. Sasha got Jason who got me an' Daryl and the five of us concluded that they were flashlights. Now. Maybe someone is out there lookin' for somethin'. Or maybe it's the cannibals that Daryl encountered. Either way, we need a plan."

 

"We just don't let them in," Rosita stated immediately from where she sat on Abraham's lap at the far end of the table.

 

"Shoot on sight if you ask me," Abraham added.

 

Beth looked at them and even though all he could see was the back of her head, Daryl could just imagine the frown on her face. "What if they're innocent? What if they're still good people?"

 

"That ain't our problem," Abraham answered and Rosita nodded.

 

Tara fidgeted awkwardly enough that it caught everyone's attention. She looked incredibly uncomfortable with all eyes in the room on her. "I guess, we could maybe find some way to quarantine them or something? Until we know their safe. Rather than just killing anyone that approaches on sight. Wouldn't that be more humane?"

 

"But people can be liars and fakes," Carl spoke up, lifting his head from where he'd been resting it on his arms on the table. "We can't just start takin' people in."

 

"Carl's right," Jason tossed in. The look Beth shot him was a little chilly and Daryl felt himself smirk a little when Jason steadily held her gaze. Good man, not letting a little upset change the way he felt or thought. No point keeping the woman happy if it made you miserable he'd always thought. Jason continuing stole his attention again, and he looked away from Beth's unhappy face and back to the young man speaking. "Our resources are bountiful but not unlimited. If people learn what we've got here, we're never going t' have a moment's peace because word will get out. We'll spend all of our time _protectin'_ this place instead of enjoyin' it."

 

"Not everyone's a bad person," Beth insisted. "What if there are children?"

 

"Children can be pawns," Carol responded. "There were times when Ed, my late husband, used Sophia against me just t' keep me in line. I'm not saying we shouldn't do anything. I'm just saying we'll need to be extra cautious when there are children involved."

 

Beth looked a little mortified and then looked away. Her expression didn't say defeat, but it certainly seemed thoughtful.

 

Michonne shook her head. "The thing is…we won't know one way or the other until we know."

 

"We can' just let'em in," Daryl spoke up and all eyes turned to him. It was uncomfortable forcing himself to say what he wanted to say. Normally, it had become his habit to let Rick do all the talking. They thought so much alike it was essentially the same as speaking himself, and no matter what he'd follow Rick to the end of the Earth, but in this matter he really wanted his own voice to be heard even if Rick would have said basically the same thing. He wanted Rick to know how strongly he felt about the subject. "I ain' had much t' call my own in my lifetime an' I'll be damned if I put any o' y'all or this place at risk because I feel bad for someone else. Kids are always gonna be game changers, but y'need t' be responsible for yerself. If you can't make it by now, then that's on you."

 

Rick had looked over as soon as Daryl had started to speak. Now, their eyes were locked, and Daryl lifted his chin, defying the other man to argue. Rick, after a moment, simply looked back to the kitchen table around which all of their family had gathered. "Daryl's right," Rick confirmed and sighed. The former lawman looked sad as his hand dragged slowly over his mouth. "Can we all agree that our people matter more than any new group o' survivors that comes along?"

 

It was no surprise when everyone nodded. Beth didn't look terribly pleased with the way things were going, but she didn't seem able to argue that their people took precedent over anyone else. Daryl couldn't say he disagreed with her. Not completely, but there were far more terrible people in the world these days than the good ones.

 

"Alrigh' then." Rick nodded, glancing at Daryl again but only briefly. Rick knew what Daryl's answer would be. The former deputy didn't need reassurance in that. "We'll try to be fair, but we do whatever is necessary to keep _our_ people safe – our _home_ safe."

 

"So what do we do about the people with the lights?" Carol asked. Her expression was neutral enough that it was almost emotionless. Daryl was reminded of Karen and David. There was nothing this woman wouldn't do to keep them all as safe as she could. It also reminded him that they had more than a fighting chance to overcome just about anything.

 

"When there's light to see by, a few of us will go out and see what we can see," Rick answered her. "I'd say three, two to watch both sides and one to focus on the observin'."

 

"I'll go," Jason offered from behind him. "I'm nowhere near as good as Daryl at trackin' but I know more'n probably most of the rest o' ya."

 

"Naw, I can go," Daryl said. He started when not only Rick and Jason, but most of the rest of them chimed in for a large chorus of nos.

 

"Your ankle the way it is would get you killed, if we ran into any trouble," Jason told him. "Not only would you be a danger t' yourself, but t' the rest of the group out there. They'd have t' be worryin' about haulin' your ass back in here instead of gettin' themselves to safety."

 

Daryl looked from Jason to Rick. The man's mouth was a displeased, this line, but after a moment of staring Daryl down, he turned back to the group. "Who else?"

 

"I'll go," Abraham offered.

 

To which Rosita said, "Then I go too."

 

Rick nodded. "Alright. Everyone try and get a little more sleep. Maggie. Glenn. See if you can relieve Bob and Sasha."

 

"Sure thing," the pair said in unison and then stood, heading back upstairs to prepare for a few hours on guard duty. Beth got up and moved over to stand beside Jason at the stove where the young man had leaned back after telling Daryl to just forget going out into the wilderness any time soon. Daryl felt rankled and irritable, pissed off by his own weakness. Pushing off the chair, he left his crutch where it leaned on the island and stubbornly forced himself to limp as little as possible as he made his way down the hall and into the bedroom. He immediately made his way to the crib, looking down on Judith as she slept peacefully on, unaware that there might be anything wrong with her little world.

 

It was only a few minutes later that Rick came into the bedroom. He paused by the door and Daryl's crutch rattled as Rick leaned it against the wall there. The other man's steps were soft as he moved further into the room and stopped just two steps behind Daryl. The silence in the room was heavy.

 

"Daryl…"

 

The archer turned, unsteadily, and kept his eyes in the general vicinity of Rick's collarbones. His insides were twisted tight, and he just wasn't sure what to do. Part of him, the only part he'd really ever gotten to know, wanted to cuss Rick out. That part of him wanted to punch the man in front of him right in the face and prove through vicious words and meaner actions that he wasn't some pussy ass bitch that couldn't take care of himself.

 

The other part of him, the part he wasn't so familiar with, wanted to apologize for being useless. For being a burden. For failing the man in front of him. The only experience he had with that part of himself was from way back when his daddy had first started in on him because Merle had landed himself in Juvie. Daryl had curled up in a little ball and wailed the first few beatings, the noise irritating the old man enough to bring a second beating right on the heels of the first. He'd learned quickly after that.

 

Lost in thought, Daryl couldn't suppress the flinch when Rick reached slowly toward him, the action taking him by surprise. At some point in the past, Rick might have backed away and given Daryl some space after a response like that. Right now, Rick pressed in close with his whole body not deterred in the least by the ingrained reaction.

 

"Hey," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Daryl in a comfortingly snug embrace. "You're fine," he murmured, voice rumbling and raspy right next to Daryl's ear. Slowly, Daryl brought his free arm up and wrapped it around Rick's waist, clenching anxiously trembling fingers in the fabric at the small of Rick's back. "You're okay. We all jus' want you t' heal up right."

 

Cheek pressed into Rick's shoulder, Daryl stared into the darkness of the room. He didn't know what he should say, so he said nothing. After a moment, Rick pulled back and Daryl felt the intensity of Rick's gaze on his face, urging him to look up. Daryl, compelled, brought his gaze up. This close he could still directly meet Rick's eyes even in the dark. The former officer searched his face a moment and Daryl, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed, looked away. Rick immediately leaned in and kissed his temple.

 

"Let's get back t' bed. Judith'll be up and hungry in a few hours." When Daryl bobbed his head, Rick released him and together they made their way over to the bed. Once they were in and settled, Rick spooned up behind him again, Rick murmured, "I know you're itchin' t' get back out there already. But…I can't lose you."

 

It sounded painful, Daryl realized, for Rick to admit to that here and now. This wasn't their Leader, urging him to understand his value to the group. This was a man he'd kissed. This was the man who'd gone out of his way just to make sure Daryl of all people was comfortable for no other reason than that he'd been concerned for Daryl's well-being. This was the man who'd turned Daryl's life completely around, taming parts of him that Daryl himself hadn't been able to conquer. Two years ago, Daryl wouldn't have been right on the frontline, probably already out there right then sprained ankle and bum arm be damned, and…they probably wouldn't have stopped him. Rick would have tried, for sure, but Daryl wouldn't have been able to listen.

 

In his mind's eye, Daryl could just see an image, blurred by lack of familiarity with the unknown surroundings of The Grimes' bedroom before the shit hit the fan. Of Rick lying behind Lori just like this, aching to make it better, to do right by the person he so clearly cared about. Her silence had been icy and immutable the whole time Daryl had known her. He could just imagine her stiffness, her stare and her silent walls thrown up to shut Rick out after one of their infamous fights even back then. It occurred to Daryl that they both had ingrained habits and fears that neither of them might ever overcome.

 

In that moment, Daryl found himself wishing his damn arm and side weren't such a mess for an entirely different reason. Unable to roll around and face Rick, Daryl reached across his own body and awkwardly caught at Rick's elbow where it rested bent over Daryl's side. He tugged even as he leaned back. Rick seemed to get the message on the second pull on his arm and pushed himself up onto his other elbow, giving Daryl room to tilt gingerly onto his back with Rick hovering above him.

 

Daryl reached up, fingers trailing up the side of Rick's bicep and over his shoulder until his fingers could curl around the side of Rick's neck. Being under the other man sent twin tingles of fear and excitement up his spine. Daryl had cut out the last time they'd been even remotely close to this level of intimacy, overwhelmed and close to terrified of getting any closer to the man than he already was. It still brought to mind far too many unpleasant memories, but Daryl Dixon wasn't one to shy away from something that scared him forever.

 

"You goin' senile, man?" he rasped into the dark between them. "How many times am I gonna have t' tell you? I ain' goin' nowhere."

 

Daryl took in the shadowed and grey-shrouded features on the other man's face as Rick's expression eased from aching and confused to gentle and tender. Rick chuckled, dipping his chin and tipping his cheek against Daryl's wrist. His stubble scratched and tickled the sensitive skin there, making Daryl shiver. As if in apology, Rick brushed a soft kiss where his would-be beard had left the tender skin overly sensitized. "I guess I am. You'll have t' keep remindin' me then."

 

"Seems like," Daryl murmured and let his fingertips press just a little more in the soft flesh at the back of Rick's neck. Rick leaned down without an ounce of resistance, resting his forehead on Daryl's for just a moment before tilting his head and capturing Daryl's lips in kiss so tender Daryl wasn't prepared for the emotional that welled instantly in his chest. The hand on the back of Rick's neck pushed long fingers up into thick curls, deepening their connection. It was the first time Daryl had felt like a full participant in the kiss. There wasn't any other thought in his mind, no other voice, no other focus, but Rick and the way he kissed like a man starved for physical contact.

 

The angle was a bit awkward at first, but Rick seemed keen to remedy the minor discomfort, shifting farther up so that Daryl could rest his head back into the pillow. The arm he'd left straight on the other side of Daryl's body flexed, dropping Rick down to both elbows, and Daryl immediately felt the loss of an easy escape route. Thing was? The realization that he was trapped beneath Rick's body neglected to send any kind of alarm through him. He was trapped and it wasn't sending him running from the bed and their room. Then Rick slid over just that few inches more, slipping his left leg over one of Daryl's until it rested between them and the hunter arched into Rick's hip, startled by the intensity of the arousal rushing like a tidal wave to burn low in his stomach. Strong fingers tightened in the hair they'd woven into, and the pull of the reaction on his scalp must have done something for the other man because Rick growled – fucking growled – as he pressed his own hips tight against Daryl's pelvis in response. The tiny whimper had to have come from Daryl himself given that Rick's mouth was now busily nibbling along Daryl's jaw.

 

"Daryl," Rick rasped against the archer's ear. "Tell me t' stop."

 

Fuck that.

 

Instead, Daryl brought his right leg up and wound it around the leg resting between his, locking Rick in place as he lifted his hips into the other man's body again. They were both getting hard and fast, the rush of blood to a place other than his brain, making the normally reserved man feel a bit bolder and lot less reserved about the whole thing. So he liked the way Rick moaned into his ear and ground hard into his hips. It was nobody's fucking business but his own and Merle's stupid ghost could just shut the fuck up. Thankfully, Daryl's mind seemed peaceful for the time being, aside from the constant surge of hormones drowning his common sense.

 

Rick licked his ear, tongue dipping in and making Daryl's breath hitch and his body squirm in an automatic reaction to the tickling sensation. His tongue didn't stop there neither. It trailed around behind the delicate shell and was immediately followed by the graze of teeth. Rick mouthed down the side of his neck, kisses open-mouthed and teeth gentle as he kissed, nipped and sucked his way down to Daryl's collarbone and then up over his Adam's apple and chin. Daryl heard another of those tiny whimpers escape him when Rick took Daryl's lower lip between his teeth and tugged. The action caused a gasping reaction and Rick dove in, tongue sliding right past Daryl's lips as Rick rocked his hips into Daryl's again. Daryl's hips rocked up to meet the downward thrust and as their tongues writhed against each other their hips picked up a slow and steady rhythm.

 

After a moment, Rick broke away and moaned, the sound half muffled by the muscle joining Daryl's neck and shoulder. "Fuck, Daryl," he whispered.

 

"Rick," Daryl whimpered in response and buried his face against the other man's shoulder, panting and letting out a low moan when Rick groaned – a long low sound that went straight to Daryl's dick – and his hips jerked hard, rubbing his spasming cock tight up against Daryl's own hard and leaking member. Teeth sank into the muscle that had been tensing under Rick's chin and Daryl arched, head doing back hard into the pillow as he muttered, "Oh fuck! Shit, yeah," groaning as he came. His whole body shuddered and he was so overwhelmed in the sensation that it took him a moment to register the gentle kisses Rick was trailing up and down the side of his neck and over the mark he had to have left on Daryl's shoulder. It was soothing and helped to bring him down from the afterglow high gently.

 

Rick loved him. He hadn't said it yet, but Daryl knew it to be true.

 

Loosening his grip on the hair at the nape of Rick's neck, Daryl let his hand drift down the other man's back and then slowly dragged it back it up, palm flat against the shuddering muscles on Rick's back. Rick slowly lifted his head. He looked down into Daryl's lazily slitted eyes for just a moment before leaning in to brush a soft kiss to the archer's slightly swollen lower lip.

 

"I haven't done that since I was a teenager," he mumbled and Daryl snorted. "Let's get you outta this sling for a bit and into the shower, hm?"

 

Their noses brushed when Daryl dipped his chin, unable to speak for the tightness in his throat. Rick slid over him the rest of the way and slipped off Daryl's side of the bed. Unsteady, he started and leaned forward catching himself on the edge of the mattress when Dundee bolted up from the floor and walked grumpily over to the dog bed Jason had to have put in one of the corners of the room. Rick chuckled, a little high from the endorphins still and Daryl smirked at him as he straightened again. Boneless as he felt, Daryl forced himself to sit up with Rick's gentle hands helping him and leaned heavily into his partner's sturdy, limping with him as they made their way into the bathroom.

 

It was easier to sit on the stool sat to the side of the shower and let Rick unclasp the sling from his torso and slip it off his shoulder and arm. He sat still while Rick unwound the bandage from his bicep and helped Rick pull his tank top off by lifting and bending his good arm and bowing his head. He felt a little drugged, but it was more like the pleasant haze of good pot than the uncomfortable ants under your skin buzz of the stronger shit. Rick got his chin and forced him to look up at him once the wrap was gone from his right ankle and the last of the bandages had been pulled from his side.

 

"No fallin' asleep yet," Rick mumbled, looking drowsy himself but highly amused. Daryl frowned at him.

 

"I ain' gonna," he protested and then gripped Rick's shoulder, pulling himself to his feet in sync with the other man straightening up. Rick slipped his fingertips into the waistband of Daryl's sleep pants and leaned in for a kiss. Daryl gave in to the sloppy, openmouthed affection with an ease born from orgasm. Distracted, he didn't even twitch when Rick pushed his pants and boxers to the floor. The cold air against the cooling cum on his dick, however, was uncomfortable enough for him to grunt and pull away, balancing unsteadily on his left foot and turning toward the shower door.

 

Rick came in right behind him, naked as the day he was born, and pulled the door closed as Daryl adjusted the water knobs to his satisfaction. When he was happy with the temperature he made to turn around, but Rick pressed in close behind him, putting them both under the spray and mouthed at the bite mark on Daryl's shoulder as he rubbed a soapy washcloth down Daryl's belly with an open palm. The shower was a slow, sensual come down from the quick, frantic dry-humping and Daryl let himself melt into Rick's touch. It was an unusal delight to watch Rick take pleasure in his own hesitant touches. They washed their own hair at the end and Rick slipped out of the shower while Daryl was rinsing the suds from his too long locks. By the time Daryl had turned the water off, Rick was waiting for him with a fluffy brown towel out of the shower door.

 

Once Daryl had dried himself off, Rick picked up the wound pack – some blend of triple antibiotic ointment and herbs Jason had insisted would help heal the arrow wounds faster than the antibiotic ointment alone – and the gauze and set about rebandaging Daryl's arm and side as the hunter sat placidly on the stool. Rick kept shooting him these little looks and after a while, Daryl grumbled a soft, "What?"

 

"I don' think I've ever seen you this…serene before," he murmured.

 

"That's cuz you ain' never seen me after an orgasm before," Daryl teased and shivered when Rick smoothed the last corner on the last bandage down and let his fingers continue their trail down his side until they rested on Daryl's bared hip. The towel had sagged a bit once he'd sat down.

 

"Let's get you back t' bed. I'll rewrap your ankle before we get up in the morning."

 

"The sling?" Daryl queried, eyeing the damn thing and hoping Rick would feel the same way about it.

 

Rick's smirk said he was on to him. "I'm not gonna let you move once we're back in bed. You don' need it for a few hours of rest."

 

Stooping, Rick pulled Daryl's right arm over his shoulders and together they made their way back into the bedroom. Rick made sure to ease Daryl back into the bed beneath the covers before moving around and crawling in behind him. Spooning naked was something new, but Daryl found he was too tired to analyze it much. It wasn't unpleasant, a lot the opposite in fact, and he closed his eyes, drifting off to the soft even breathing and steadily thumping heart of the man behind him.

 

TBC…


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Why did I lame Daryl?!?!?! Arg, stupid plot bunnies!! But realistically 2-4 weeks of lameness in the character you’re writing? That’s damn near torture lol Also Benny and Martin (the draft horses Jason mentions in one of the last couple chapters) are named after Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman. ^___^

Chapter Fifteen

 

It was hard to wake up. Hard like it had always been hard to wake up after a good long night of too many happenings. Merle used to drag him into some pretty exhausting shit: parties, clubs and bars, drug deals that inevitably went sour...At least he wasn't hung over though, so Daryl let himself wake up nice and slowly. He was still boneless and the only time he was ever this relaxed was after he'd found a private moment to go off alone and get himself off. Not that there had been much time or privacy for that since he'd joined up with a group of nosy, busy-bodies. Anyway, the times before there hadn't been this overlying sense of safety and well-being. Contentment. The right word came to him through the haze of his mind. With consciousness slowly settling back into place, Daryl remembered he hadn't sought that particular release of tension alone last night and felt a trembling, eager tightness take hold of his chest.

 

Rick's warm, lithe body was still pressed tightly along Daryl's backside. One strong arm was curved over his side and hooked up under his bad arm, Rick's warm palm laid snugly over Daryl's shoulder as it had been keeping him from hunching it or really moving it at all while they slept. Their feet and legs were a tangled mess under the blankets. A sleepy hum and the press of the other man's nose at his ear told him Rick was awake too but only just barely. Long fingers brushed at Daryl's bangs in half-aborted, repetitive motions from where Rick's arm was curled directly under Daryl's head. This was a morning Daryl had _never_ thought he'd ever _personally_ experience, especially after the world had gone to shit thinning everyone's options. That unfamiliar voice in the back of his mind was whispering to him of the possibility that Rick was just as deeply into this, maybe even more so, than he was before Merle's ghost could even draw imaginary breath to speak. It was Rick after all that had decided Daryl would be staying with him in the master suite without so much as a by your leave from Daryl himself. The memory of that night and their first kiss made his heart feel like it was caught in a vice and wasn't it strange that that was not at all as unpleasant as one might think?

 

"We need t' get up," Rick rumbled, sounding like he'd rather never get out of bed again.

 

"Judy needs changin' and a bottle," Daryl agreed, but found he sounded just as reluctant.

 

"I got it," Carl said from the doorway, appearing out of nowhere and breezing into the room at the first sign of life like he'd been hovering outside the door.

 

Rick, clearly startled but still hazy from sleep, picked his head up and looked over his shoulder to squint at his son as Carl lifted Judith out of her crib. Judith was sleepy, but she'd obviously been awake for at least a few moments. Carl smiled at his father and then nodded to Daryl when the hunter lifted his head to look too after the silence dragged on two seconds too long. Carl just hefted Judith higher up on his hip unperturbed by the twin stares directed his way.

 

"Jason already took Abraham and Rosita out to patrol the area where we saw the lights," Carl told them. "They should be back soon."

 

"Okay," Rick murmured, sounding a little stunned, and then Carl was gone again. Rick looked down and Daryl turned his eyes from the door the kid had disappeared through to meet Rick's bright blue gaze. Daryl felt like he was under a microscope for about thirty seconds before Rick seemed to relax and leaned down to kiss him on the lips. "Mornin'."

 

He knew what Rick had been looking for, staring into him the way he had for that split second. The other man had not been wrong to worry. Daryl had come damn close to having a moment of complete and utter panic at having been caught in a _man's_ bed and wrapped up in a _man's_ arms by that very man's _son_ no less. However, Carl hadn't even directed half a strange look their way, strolling in and out without so much as batting an eyelash. The on-edge feeling started to abate a bit when Rick carried on as if Carl hadn't interrupted them, but the quiet, comfortable ease of the morning was still ruined with the way Daryl's heart was pounding just a little too fast.

 

"Yeah. Mornin'," Daryl mumbled voice gruff from an almost too deep sleep. He wriggled and stretched, hissing a bit when his shoulder and arrow wounds twinged with the flex of muscles.

 

"I'll get yer meds, and we'll get yer arm in the sling and wrap that ankle up again. Don' move," Rick murmured with a tiny, sympathetic frown and, with great care, extracted himself from their tangle.

 

By the time the pair of them made it into the kitchen, Jason, Abraham and Rosita were coming in through the front door. The three moved right into the kitchen after kicking off their footwear, and Rick stood to greet Jason with a firm handshake and friendly, "Mornin'. How'd it go?"

 

"There was a lot of kicked around leaves and broken foliage. We could tell that there was a decent sized group of people there, but we all agreed not to follow the trail." Jason settled across from Rick and Abraham settled in the chair across from Daryl with Rosita on his knee. Daryl looked away from them, feeling uncomfortable in the presence of the overly affectionate pair. Jason continued once he'd settled in his chair. "If it's those guys we ran int' at the covered bridge, we didn't think three against an unknown number were fair enough odds."

 

"No, it was a good call," Rick agreed and leaned back in his chair. "Did ya get any idea if they'd gotten close t' the fence line?"

 

Daryl brought his eyes up from the table top and fixed Jason with a suspicious stare when the young man didn't answer right away. Rick shifted straight again and stared hard at their host probably sensing the same thing Daryl was. Jason was holding something back. After a moment of looking between the two of them, Jason sighed. "Look. They found the fence. In fact, they came through all the way t' the wall, but not by the road. I think they're camped somewhere t' either o' the sides, and I think there were more of them than the flashlights indicated."

 

"Can they get in?" Daryl demanded, eyes searching Jason's facial features and body language, trying to gauge how Jason really felt about the situation.

 

Jason met his eyes directly and shook his head. "No. Not without a plan. They might not even be as close as I think they are. We may be lookin' at putting off that run until after we've dealt with this though."

 

"Tha's fine," Rick murmured. "I don' want t' risk _anyone_ for some nonessential supplies when we're almost completely set for winter."

 

"Yeah, but home jus' became a prison," Abraham offered with every ounce of irony he was probably capable of.

 

"We're used t' home bein' a prison," Rick countered with a pointed look in the red-headed man's direction. Abraham raised his hand in the classic "I'm just sayin'" gesture and then settled it on the table again. Daryl only watched the exchange out of the corner of his eye though, too focused on Jason and what he might not be telling them. The kid hadn't looked up from his folded hands in over a minute.

 

"What ain't ya tellin' us?" he demanded after a while, drawing Rick's attention to himself for just a moment before the other man turned those piercing blue eyes on Jason. Jason's brown gaze flicked up, going from Rick to Daryl to Rick and then back to his hands.

 

"Hey," Rick demanded and it sounded nothing like the "heys" Daryl had ever gotten from him. That tone said Rick wasn't fuckin' around and he wanted your attention _right_ now. It wasn't a "hey please look at me" at all. The tone grabbed Rosita and Abraham's attention as well, but it took Jason that extra second to look up, and Daryl felt his hackles rise. A quick glance at Rick told him that Rick's instincts were going off too. If the look he was giving Jason right now was any indication, Rick was going into full on alpha male mode, making his stare almost predatory. Jason wisely didn't look away once their eyes locked. "You got somethin' t' tell us, you tell us _now_ , or we're gonna have a problem later if or when any secrets you might be keepin' causes my _family_ a problem. Got that?"

 

Daryl forgot most of the time that Jason was still only about as old as Beth. Right now, he certainly looked it. That didn't excuse him from clearly holding back information from them, but Daryl was glad to find himself thinking it was more that the kid wasn't sure what to do than that he had any ill-intentions towards the group. He was also glad that the kid had a shit poker face.

 

"There might have been children…"Jason told them softly and only then did he drop his gaze. "There were littler tracks in amongst the adult tracks in the few areas where any tracks were discernible at all."

 

Daryl's eyes flicked to Rick's face just in time to catch the thinning of the other man's mouth. A split second later, Rick cursed and shoved away from the table, storming out of the kitchen and into the foyer. Him slipping into his cowboy boots was audible in stomps, then he slammed out of the front door just a second later. Daryl turned his gaze back to the three people in front of him. In Rick's absence, it was probably up to him to get the rest of the story.

 

"Any idea how many?" Daryl mumbled, leaning gingerly back into his chair and tilting so that his exit wound wasn't pressed into the back of it. Four weeks of being laid up like he was right then was going to be a bitch, especially with uncertain trouble on the horizon.

 

"Two that I could determine from the differences in shoe size," Jason mumbled.

 

Abraham spoke up then, asking, "You ain't planning on lettin' 'em all in now that you assume there's children with them are ya? Just a few hours ago y'all was adamant that we couldn't just let 'em in."

 

"Or just let 'em go," Rosita added. "They might come back later with a plan and an army."

 

Oh, that wasn't happening again. Once was more than enough for Daryl. They'd leave no loose ends this time, no matter what the actual outcome of the confrontation would be. "We ain' gonna have t' worry 'bout none o' that," Daryl told her firmly, meeting her eyes directly for the first time. She smirked and it made his skin crawl with nerves, having a woman look at him that way, and the prettier the woman the worse the sensation.

 

Rosita leaned back against Abraham's shoulder and stared him in the eyes without flinching. "You gonna make sure o' that, tough guy? Cuz y'all ain' in any kind o' condition t' be makin' those kinds of choices from what I can see, and what if you're brave leader doesn't feel the same way?"

 

Daryl grit his teeth. She could probably tell that he didn't like having to talk to her much. "Then we'll have a family meetin' an' talk about it like adults."

 

"Look," Jason finally spoke up again his tone placating. "I know we can't help everyone. I know that we really shouldn't let them in, but Beth's not entirely wrong either. What if they aren't the Cannibals? What if they're just survivors like us, who are still good people? I really didn't believe many kids would be able to make it out there. Hell, when I saw Judith it was like somebody'd thrown me a creek in the middle of winter. How the hell did you guys keep that baby alive all that time?"

 

"Told ya," Daryl ran a thumbnail's edge over his lower lip. "She's a Grimes. Lil Asskicker can practically take care o' herself."

 

Jason shook his head, clearly not appeased by Daryl's slightly unique humor.

 

"That family meetin' looks like it might be happenin' sooner rather than later," Abraham put in and then patted Rosita's ass. He gave it a pinch once she was off his lap then got to his own feet to follow her out of the kitchen. Daryl tried to ignore the churn of dislike in his stomach. Abraham and Rosita reminded him too much of so many people from the times when him and Merle ended up in places that were less than fit for a young boy like Daryl had been. Eventually, he'd convinced Merle that regular bars were better because the beer and women were cheaper. Hell, Maggie and Glenn weren't exactly discreet, but they didn't behave like those two.

 

Left with just Jason, Daryl turned his focus back to the matter at hand. "You want us t' let them in."

 

It wasn't a question. Jason answered anyway. "I want t' know that there's nothin' we can do for those children because their parents or caregivers aren't worth savin'. I feel terrible sayin' it, but we can't support the numbers. It just can't be done. We'd run outta food before the end o' next summer an' lord forbid anythin' happens t' the livestock or bugs invade the garden."

 

Daryl nodded. "I'm gonna go talk t' Rick once he's had a minute t' cool his head."

 

Jason nodded and got slowly to his feet. "Where are the others?"

 

"Beth's upstairs. I heard'er singing while Rick was wrappin' my ankle. Haven' seen her down here."

 

Jason smirked, caught out but taking it with a bit of good grace. "How's the battle damage comin' along?"

 

Daryl shot him a semi-dirty look and got slowly to his feet, reaching back to snag his crutch from where it hung on the back of the chair. "Fine," he answered and then made his way back into the master suite. Jason's boots hit the stairs not a moment later.

 

Once alone, he settled on the edge of the bed and stared vacantly into the empty space between himself and the wall he faced. His first thought was that he wished for a way to make this easier for Rick. The man had been through so much already, made so many hard choices and had rarely flinched from any of them, and here life was making things twice as hard as it had to be all over again. Rick was a father before he was anything else and the thought of children left out there to die was something the man was going to struggle with.

 

Daryl himself was struggling with the idea of leaving defenseless little ones out there. As far as he was concerned, children deserved a chance, but how did one take in just a few of a group? It wasn't possible. Either the group would prove its worth as a whole refusing to be separated as his own family had, or the individuals would prove themselves unworthy of becoming residents of the Homestead by agreeing to a separation. It was a test in and of itself really. Not any easy one because neither outcome was what any of them wanted on any level.

 

Ultimately, they had agreed that nothing mattered more than their own core family.

 

Slowly, pushing himself to his feet with the aid of the crutch, Daryl made his way out into the kitchen again. He was startled to find Michonne leaning into Tara's personal space with one hand planted firmly on the table top and Tara looking up into her blazing white eyes with a very hesitant expression on her face. Michonne, attention caught by the rattle of Daryl's crutch, looked up and met Daryl's gaze without a flinch.

 

"Rick's in the garden," she told him and then looked back to Tara who was now staring down at her hands and blushing bright red.

 

Daryl decided it was none of his business and moved on into the foyer. It took him a moment to stuff his good foot into his left boot and get the laces moderately snug with one hand but Daryl was nothing if not good with his fingers. Before too long, he was hopping his way down the stairs and limping his way over to the fenced in garden. Sure enough, Rick was kneeling in the dirt, weeding away like he'd never left the prison garden. Rick let Daryl get through the gate and right up next to him in the neat little row before, saying, "Ya need t' rest a bit more, or yer never gonna heal right."

 

Rick speak for 'I kinda want to be alone right now' with an underlying tone of 'but not really.'

 

Daryl leaned a little more heavily on his crutch, it's rubber foot sinking in the rich earth, and looked out over the opposite garden fence at the greenhouses. "Think we should try an' grow some weed next year?" Rick sighed hard through tightly closed lips, the action puffing out his cheeks, but he still didn't look up. Daryl pushed just a little harder, "Might give ya an excuse t' use those handcuffs on me."

 

This time Rick huffed softly in amusement, thankfully taking the bait. Daryl couldn't always use his words right, but Rick understood somehow what Daryl was trying to say or do despite that fact. Oh, sometimes he got it right and managed to say things like 'You shouldn't have t' do all o' the heavy liftin',' but then there were times like these when he wanted to point out that there was no real crisis banging down their door and that Rick needed to lighten up a little before approaching whatever problem had gotten him all twisted up inside.

 

"Those handcuffs are still on a rooftop in Atlanta."

 

"Damn," Daryl lamented not entirely in jest. Rick smiled a little and pushed himself to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans. Knowing he had Rick's attention now, Daryl offered a softly spoken, "It ain't on you t' keep everyone left in the world safe. Just us. _We're_ all that matters remember? Carl. Judith."

 

" _You_ ," Rick interrupted and Daryl paused to nervously lick his lips and hop one step closer to him. Rick's eyes dropped from their stare over Daryl's shoulder to stare intently into Daryl's narrow blue eyes. "But those kids…"

 

"Ain' yours. It ain' yer burden t' bare, man."

 

After a moment of searching his face, Rick finally seemed to relax, shoulders drooping as he reached out to clasp Daryl's right shoulder. "We'll see what they want. If there're too many, if they're bad people, if we just plain can't do it…"

 

Rick's throat closed up a bit. Daryl saw it as it happened, and with awkwardness and some clumsy shuffling he moved in, Rick coming into his one-armed embrace with a mind for avoiding jarring Daryl's bad arm just like always. It was strange to be so physical with someone without fists flying, but he'd vowed he would give Rick what he needed and he was well aware that physical reassurances were top on that list. "Then that won' be on you either, Rick."

 

"I can't ask ya t' always do the dirty work for me, Daryl," Rick murmured against Daryl's shoulder.

 

"Y'ain't. I'm tellin' ya I'm gonna do it and that's that." Daryl pressed his lips against Rick's sweaty temple. It might be fall but the man had already cleared two rows of weeds, working himself into a lather over the tough parts of being their leaders. Well, Daryl's job was exactly this. Taking those tough parts and making them a little easier. "Jason and Carol and Michonne and me. We'll take care o' it."

 

"Jason?" Daryl immediately picked up on the thoughtful tone of Rick's voice and shook his head just a little, chin brushing over the top of Rick's shoulder.

 

"It's the kids. He's real soft on little ones. Y'shoulda seen the look on his face first time he saw Judith."

 

After a second, Daryl felt Rick nod. Then the other man let him go and stepped back two short slow steps. "I'm gonna finish up the weedin'. I'm about a quarter o' the way. Then I'll be inside t' clean up. Mind sendin' Carl out t' help?"

 

"Naw. Kid's probably by the chickens. I'll send 'im."

 

Rick dipped his chin a fraction just once and then reached out to lay a hand on Daryl's good shoulder. "And Daryl?"

 

The redneck cocked his head, looking up at Rick a little through eyes squinted against the bright sunlight of the middle of morning. "Yeah?"

 

"Thank you."

 

Reaching up, Daryl wrapped his fingers around the fingers over his shoulder, squeezing once before running his thumb back and forth over gritty skin. "Ain' nothin'," he murmured and dropped his gaze to the vicinity of Rick's chest. "It's what we do."

 

Aware that Rick was moving back into his personal space, Daryl made to look up but was stopped by the gentle press of lips to his forehead. "It is…but I'm still grateful for havin' ya by my side all this time. I'd be long gone without ya. Havin' you here. With me. That's everythin' I need."

 

Daryl's fingers tightened reflexively on Rick's and the other man squeezed back before pulling away. Daryl, flustered in ways he wasn't entirely used to, took an unbalanced step back, but managed to stay upright despite the soft soil and his lack of proper balance. Slitted eyes studied Rick for just a moment. Daryl knew he must look pretty stunned, but the impact those words and the many like them was always a little soul shaking. Rick gave him one last small smirking smile before turning and kneeling back in the dirt. Long fingers expertly gripped at the weeds near their roots and plucked, tugged and yanked them out. Daryl watched Rick work for several long moments before slowly making his way out of the garden.

 

Somehow. Someway. Daryl had found himself the one person in the world who didn't judge him, mislead him, use him or abuse him. Somehow, despite the world being completely fucked, he'd managed to find a family that wanted him.

 

"Daryl?" Carl looked concerned as Daryl hobbled toward him. It looked like the kid was on his way into the house, but he'd spun and taken the few steps between them with a pinched expression, looking up into Daryl's face from the shadow of his father's deputy's hat. "You okay?"

 

Daryl sniffed, trying hard to get ahold of himself. "Yer dad wants ya. In the garden."

 

Carl studied him for a moment, thoughtful and analytical for just a second before he nodded. "Okay."

 

Daryl felt the boy's eyes on him a time or two as Carl made his way over to the garden. Daryl just moved slowly up the steps and into the house, never looking back because he already knew he'd see Carl repeatedly twisting to warily watch him walk away. Once inside, Daryl found Beth and Jason playing with Judith on a blanket on the floor of the kitchen.

 

"I've got'er," he told them as he moved over. Beth expertly scooped Judith up and got to her feet. The silent communication would have been priceless if Jason hadn't been dozing with his back against the kitchen chair behind him. Daryl knew he had to look frustrated, and Beth just looked at him in that condescending 'ain' no way y'all are gonna carry this baby like that' way. Daryl caved at last and turned, leading the way to the bed room. Once inside, he fluffed his pillows and settled back into them. Beth handed Judith to him and the sleepy baby yawned hugely, snuggling into Daryl's chest and letting her eyelids droop. Judith was out cold with a thumb in her mouth in just a few heartbeats.

 

Beth smiled down at them, and Daryl glowered, urging her silently to leave him in peace. It was a little embarrassing to be caught up in such a vulnerable position with someone standing right there next to him. The staring contest ended when Dundee hopped up onto the foot of the bed, allowing Daryl to rest his wrapped ankle on the dog's curled back, elevating it to help keep the swelling down as much as possible. With one last smile that she just couldn't hold back, Beth left to presumably rejoin Jason in the kitchen.

 

It wasn't long before Daryl himself was dragged into a light doze more than content with Lil Asskicker on his chest, sleeping peacefully and Rick safely within the fortress they now called home. Feeling a lot more exhausted than he'd thought he could, Daryl yawned himself.

 

It was going to be a long four weeks of recovery.

 

 

TBC…


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Thank you to the lovely kat-valkyrian for assisting me in kicking this chapter off. I don't think it would have turned out quite like this without her.

Chapter Sixteen

 

It had been a week. A whole, long week of discussing and planning, making lists and learning the escape routes though to Daryl's frustration they were postponing any actual drills until they were certain there wasn't danger lurking right on their doorstep. A whole week and not a single sign that those other survivors were still out there. Jason kept going out with various members of their group and checking, but not a single other sign had turned up that he could find. Daryl had offered more than once to go out and look himself, but Rick adamantly refused to allow it. Daryl was getting downright irritated, and it had started to really show about four days after the revelation of the new potential threat. He and Rick had actually gotten into an argument the third time the other man had flat out told him he wasn't fit to be outside the wall. Daryl had almost been tempted to slam his fist right into Rick's tightly clenched jaw, but the whisper of Merle's encouraging voice just behind his ear had stopped him cold. It was the first peep he'd heard from his brother's ghost in days, and it had been like a bucket of ice water on his head. He'd turned and stormed off, not really needing the crutch much anymore unless he'd recently overdone it.

 

Rick had found him in the barn loft apartment over two hours later. Daryl was stretched out on his back with his head and shoulders mostly under the sink because he'd wanted some solitude and had remembered that Jason had said that the sink had been leaking the last time his Aunt and Uncle had used the apartment. At least he could be somewhat useful doing odds and ends shit. Daryl had listened in stony silence while Rick took it upon himself to apologize for the entire thing. Daryl wasn't really mad at Rick any more by then, but he was still royally pissed off at himself for even considering throwing a fist at _Rick_. When the man had finally fallen silent, Daryl had pushed himself out of the cupboard beneath the sink and stared at him for all of ten seconds. The hangdog expression on Rick's face instantly had him sighing and offering up his right hand. Rick had helped him up, and Daryl had patted his shoulder twice before going back over to the bag of tools. In the state he'd been in at the time, he'd been incapable of speaking. All the same, Rick had left with a smile tugging on his lips shortly after that and they'd been fine since.

 

Daryl was still antsy as hell and itching to get back to being useful, but he wouldn't be snapping at Rick again. Much. He hoped.

 

He had at least, however, been allowed to start taking the brace off for extended periods of time, Rick hovering nearby and eagerly helping him to exercise the limb. If the world wasn't a shit hole now and things had been the way they were before, Daryl would not have minded having that man as his physical therapist at all. Rick had…surprisingly amazing hands. It was like he could read Daryl's body through simple touch, and Rick worked hard to massage the muscles of Daryl's shoulder, top and back over the blade, until Daryl felt like putty in his hands. Afterwards, they would curl up together as they had been from the day Carl, Michonne and Carol had brought him home and go to sleep. It was incredibly domestic. Daryl, to his own surprise, found he loved every minute of it.

 

Another reason his mind cycled back around to contemplate their unseen enemy. He loved his life now with a fierceness he didn't know he was capable of. Nothing would ever sway him from his family and seeing to their needs to the very best of his abilities– and that was true even before they'd found the Homestead and Rick had proven to him that their leader found him more valuable than Daryl would have ever believed just a few months ago.

 

It bothered him that other survivors had been so close to their new home and yet they hadn't even tried to get inside or announce their presence. They hadn't shouted or called out at all. It made him nervous. What were they doing that they weren't trying to find a way in or a way to communicate with anyone that might be inside. Hell, if there were children those folks out there should be desperate to get inside these walls. Something he'd be pointing out again once the rest of their new council got their asses into the living room. Glancing around him, Daryl noted that in his contemplation he'd barely registered the arrival of Michonne, who was just now settling next to him. He dropped his thumb from his lower lip and scootched over for her a bit. Turning her attention his way, she smiled a little and he had one second to wonder what she thought was so amusing before she asked, "Off the rag yet?"

 

Her eyes dropped to his sling-less shoulder. Daryl snorted and turned his attention to the rest of the people filing through the door, refusing to acknowledge the comment more than that. Michonne had a wicked sense of humor when she was dealing with her peers. Daryl tried to avoid being near her when she was in those kinds of moods though he had to admit when she turned that humor on others he found it hilarious.

 

Once everyone was seated, Rick settled in on Daryl's other side and cleared his throat.

 

"I don't need t' go int' the why of what we're here for. I think we've gone over that enough," Rick began and then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Daryl looked from Rick to Carl, Carol, Abraham, Jason, Tara, Bob and Sasha. Apparently Rosita found the meetings boring and pointless and Beth had Judith and Mika so that they could carry on uninterrupted. Maggie and Glenn were on watch. Those present all wore similarly grim expressions to the one Daryl knew hung on his own facial features. Even Michonne had lost her humor from only moments ago.

 

Rick's tired voice drew his attention back to the man beside him. "I think we've covered everythin'. I don't think there's much more we can do t' prepare for the worst except start the drills an' make that supply run."

 

"But we don't know if they're still out there!" Tara waved a hand wildly towards the back of the house. "What if they're just waiting us out?!"

 

Abraham laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We can't hide in here forever. Eventually we'll need to forage and hunt."

 

"And we need those fortifications in case people ever do find this place and actually decide to attack," Carl added, and Rick had rarely looked more proud when Daryl glanced his way again to gauge his reaction to Carl's unwavering stance. The kid had been pushing to just get on with it all. Carl caught his dad's eyes and cast him a little smile before turning his attention back to the people beside him. "We haven't survived this long as cowards."

 

"He has a point," Carol murmured and rubbed her hands over her face. "We should make the supply run before the snow starts."

 

Rick nodded and straightened up from his slouch. "Who wants to go?"

 

Jason immediately lifted a hand and dropped it. "I'm the only one that knows how to handle the horses. We'll take Benny and Martin, like I said before, and a couple saddle horses in case we need to make a faster get away. I'd say for a run like this I'd like to take Abraham if he's willing, which means Rosita would be there as well."

 

Abraham simply nodded and folded his arms over his chest looking around at the rest of them.

 

"I'll go," Michonne offered. "I'm a good rider."

 

"And a skilled, Samurai bad ass Walker Slayer," Carl put in with a grin, and Michonne threw one of the couch pillows at him. Everyone had a good chuckle and shortly thereafter the meeting disbanded.

 

Rick and those going on the run stayed in the living room. Daryl, normally, would have stayed and helped to bolster their plans as much as he could, but Daryl was feeling cabin feverish and didn't think he could calmly – or maybe the right word was rationally – sit and plan a run he wasn't allowed to go on. Wasn't _able_ to go on either. For all that he hated being told to stay put and heal up, he knew he'd only be a hindrance, a danger to himself and to those around him. It was so frustrating being damn near back on his feet, but still not well enough to get back in the game.

 

The soft tread of tennis shoes followed him down into the basement. Daryl didn't acknowledge Carl until they were at the armory door. A tilt of his head and Carl was helping him pull the heavy shipping container door open. Carl reached in and turned on the lights.

 

"Think Dad'll let me go with Michonne?"

 

"Y'already know the answer t' that," Daryl murmured and stepped into the aisle on the left side of the container. The middle of both of the shipping containers that made up the armory was taken up with a long comfortably high counter with drawers and shelves set into it all of which were loaded with a variety of artillery like mines, grenades, ammunition, arrowheads and knives. Some of the shelves held pistol cases or parts bins or cleaning supplies and the drawers held a variety of those things as well as holsters and sheaths and wet stones and then some. Daryl had come down here with an itchy trigger finger, hoping to find a crossbow to replace the one he'd lost.

 

Carl paced him from the opposite side of the counter, looking around him at all of the weapons hung neatly on the walls. Jason had explained once when he'd found Daryl down here cleaning a pistol that the more military additions had come after the military bases had been overrun. He'd gone out and started hauling back bags full of grenades and mines, rocket launchers and anything else he could get his hands on and transport with a pack horse.

 

At the end of first container, hung in neat overlap were a number of compound and recurve bows. It was the four crossbows that drew Daryl's eyes of course and he stopped to study them for a moment. After a few more moments of silence, Carl climbed up onto a stool behind him. Daryl glanced back at him wondering why the kid was hovering. Carl just folded his arms on the countertop. "Well, when d'you think he'll let me go? I'm a really good shot. I'm not afraid to go out there. He knows I can do it."

 

"That ain' the point," Daryl drawled and reached up. Too quick in his eagerness to get his hands on the sleek Ten Point crossbow. The black and camo frame weighed perfectly in his hands, the lathes of the front curved back instead of standing straight out to either side like his last bow had, making this one much more maneuverable. He popped the caps off the ends of the scope and laid them aside on the bench below the weapon wall. Ignoring the twinge in his shoulder in favor of – slowly – bringing the bow up and aiming through the scope, Daryl found himself satisfied and gently laid the bow aside so that he could start rifling through the accessories in the drawers of the counter.

 

Carl still sat there watching him.

 

"What?" he asked, a little snappish. He was tired, and now he was sore, and Carl obviously had something he wanted to say, but just wasn't saying it. After a minute, Carl shrugged.

 

"Maybe _you_ could talk to him," the kid pointed out. "Ask him when he thinks I'll be able to go out on runs. I'm tired of not doing my part too."

 

The words caught Daryl a little off guard, draining away his irritability and replacing it with a small amount of surprise as realization dawned on him. Apparently, Lil Asskicker wasn't the only one who saw him as a mother-figure any more. It didn't rankle him like it used to, but it did make him a bit uncomfortable. Still, he liked Carl and so after a long moment of staring the kid down, Daryl finally figured out what to say.

 

"No," he told the boy and when Carl made to protest, Daryl leaned forward, looming over him a little from across the counter. The boy fell immediately silent and looked away from him. "That's stuff y'need t' talk t' him about yerself. Can' expect him t' see an adult when y'ain't man enough t' talk t' him like one."

 

Carl's eyes darted back, dawning realization bright in them. They were a blue very similar to his father's.

 

"Don' mean he'll let y'go. Just means he'll start thinkin' about it differently 'til eventually he takes ya out to test ya."

 

Carl slowly nodded, and Daryl leaned off his hands and settled onto the stool. "You don't think he'll try t' keep me here forever?"

 

"Naw. Might seem like it, but y'ain't hardly even a teenager yet. He's jus' bein' a good dad."

 

Carl was silent after that and Daryl gathered up the crossbow and some bolts and put together a small satchel of supplies like extra strings and cleaning rags, oil and the like. Once he'd finished, he stood and Carl got up with him, trailing him out of the armory. Slinging the bow over his shoulder, Daryl helped to close the doors. Together they turned back toward the stairs and on impulse, Daryl draped an arm amiably over Carl's shoulders.

 

"Maybe I'll talk t' him about takin' y'out huntin' once in a while. S'somethin' everyone should know anyway. Yer arms are long enough t' hold the bow now." They reached the stairs just as Carl twisted up and grinned at him.

 

"Thanks, Daryl!" and then the kid was gone, bounding up the stairs. Rick was waiting for him at the top of the stairs when Daryl finally made it to the top. He was breathing a little hard, carrying the extra weight of the crossbow and its bolts and supplies when he'd been doing nothing but mostly sitting on his ass for over a week. Rick only offered to close the door behind him once he was safely off the stair and into the kitchen. Daryl appreciated the man's ability to let Daryl do things himself despite being laid up.

 

"Don' know what y'said t' Carl, but I haven't seen him that excited since the last Christmas we had back home," Rick murmured, bright blue eyes searching Daryl's face for clues.

 

"Told him I'd take'im huntin' soon. If you were fine with it."

 

"Ah." Rick nodded. "That explains a lot."

 

Daryl shrugged a little and tried to suppress the wince that followed the movement.

 

"Think yer ready for dinner? I was thinkin' about doing up some steaks on the grill. Jason's hauling it out of the pole barn right now."

 

"Shit yeah. I'm starvin'." Daryl's stomach suddenly decided to growl in agreement.

 

"Alright," Rick chuckled. "Grab some beer and meet me on the patio round the side?"

 

"Yeah." A shared nod had Rick turning and heading out through the foyer again. Daryl turned for the master suite and settled the crossbow on the bed, dropping all of its accessories down next to it and moving over to the nightstand to pick up the sling. He was used to putting it on by himself now. Rick had been so busy with harvesting from the garden and dealing with the council's ideas and concerns that he'd only had his early mornings and evenings free for Daryl. The hunter helped where he could, but it wasn't until about two days ago that he'd been mobile enough to really be of any use.

 

Once his arm was secure, Daryl made his way over to the fridge and reached in, pulling out two bottles of Blue Moon and turning for the foyer. He'd been adding brown bottled beer brands to the list as he thought of them, having listed the brands Jason wisely had already stocked up on right away. It gave the runners options for what was wise to bring home. Jason had said something about light being a major cause of skunky beer and that they'd do best to take cases of bottles from inside stores and cupboards, but that cans should be fine all around. Then he'd proceeded to mention he had hops and barley growing in one of the greenhouses and the thought of more fresh home brew had Daryl smirking by the time he made it to where Rick was busy firing up the charcoal grill. The other man turned and smiled at him, slow and easy.

 

"We should add bags of charcoal to the run list," Rick told him in greeting and took both beer bottles once Daryl was close enough. It was just chilly enough to need a light jacket. Daryl was glad he'd shrugged into his before leaving the bedroom. It was definitely past the season for wearing his vest. Rick popped the tops on both bottles with the lighter he'd lit the coals with and handed one over to Daryl. Then he motioned to the wooden lawn chairs he'd dragged over from the table by the side of the house before turning back to the grill. Daryl sat with a soft grunt and then eased back carefully. His arrow wounds were almost healed, but they were still tender. Sitting back too hard often jarred a spike of pain from the exit wound in his back.

 

After a minute of watching the coals take off, Rick joined him, falling back into the other chair with a soft grunt. "Ya look like yer getting' 'round pretty good today," he murmured and took a swig of his beer.

 

Daryl pulled the bottle from his lips and licked them before humming in agreement. A comfortable, companionable silence settled around them after that. It was nice. Women seemed to have to fill silences. Rick, like Daryl himself could, at least sometimes, simply appreciate them.

 

Jason appeared from Daryl's right, two cookie sheets piled with marinated steaks in his hands and Rick jumped to his feet to get the small porch table over by the grill. Jason nodded and settled the cookie sheets down and then nodded to Rick then Daryl. "I'm gonna get the baked potatoes in the oven and wrap the corn on the cob so y'can get that on the grill too. Anythin' else?"

 

"No. Thanks, Jason." Jason shook his head and ambled off around the corner of the house again, leaving Rick and Daryl to their quiet moment again. If the scent coming off of that grill was any indication, dinner was going to be one big picnic.

 

"It's almost like it never happened," Rick murmured as he shuffled and flipped some of the steaks, making room for a few more.

 

Daryl took another swig of beer. "Beth said the same thin' when we first got here."

 

Rick nodded and stared down at the meat cooking in front of him. "Ever wonder if there are other places out there like this one?"

 

Daryl shrugged his right shoulder when Rick glanced back at him over his shoulder. "If there are there ain't many."

 

Rick nodded and turned back to the food. Carl came up then with Judith, all bundled up in her latest fall outfit pulled from Jason's mother's horde of baby things that after a while, he admitted weren't even all his. Apparently, Mama Adler had been planning on grandchildren. He pulled up another chair on the other side of his dad's and settled in, bouncing Lil Asskicker on his knee. Beth and Jason strolled out then, hand in hand and settled on the porch swing behind Daryl. Maggie and Glenn soon joined them on that swings twin off to the left of Carl and Judith's chair. Bob and Sasha soon took up part of the picnic table, debating the merits of trapping versus hunting. Daryl smirked, listening to them discuss what they'd read in some books from the library, but kept his peace. Only fools entered into lover's quarrels. Abraham and Rosita were thankfully on guard duty, and Daryl was glad that it was only his core family plus Jason at the moment. It was peaceful, at least until Mika came bounding out with Carol on her heels. The little girl was all energy and immediately began to urge Carl up. Carl looked over and his eyes begged Daryl to take the baby, so that he could go run with Mika and the goats. Apparently the goats loved to run with the kids and the kids found it far too entertaining. He'd even heard Jason teaching them how to train the goats to lead and carry packs.

 

Judith settled in against his chest and yawned, immediately asleep. Rick glanced over and shook his head with a warm, fond smile, but didn't comment. Daryl was grateful. He didn't know if he could take anymore Mama Dixon jokes from anyone. He'd been spending a lot of time with Judith in his incapacitation, allowing Beth to spend more time with Jason. It had been a mutually beneficial arrangement.

 

All in all, Daryl was incredibly content with life just then. Something he was unfamiliar with, but found himself liking very much. Tomorrow, he could start to worry again about all of the problems surrounding them. For the moment, he was just going to bask in the warm glow of a quiet evening with family.

 

 

TBC…


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Oh ho is this going to be so much fun for me to write. kat-valkyrian….you little minx and you're lovely listening skills. You always give me just the right amount of input. Thanks, doll.

Chapter Seventeen

 

Daryl woke up warm. Just on the edge of hot. Just reaching that point where the thinnest sheen of sweat was beginning to mist up on overlapped skin: the crook of his folded elbow, his jaw and cheek where his face rested in the palm of Rick's sweaty hand, the back of his neck where Rick's humid breath puffed against sensitive skin…it sent an electric wash of lazy arousal down through his belly and into his thighs. Rick had shifted sometime in the night so that Daryl lay more on his stomach with most of Rick's weight pressing him down into the mattress. That in itself stirred that deepest, most primal part of him he rarely let out into the light of day, making his mouth go dry and his heart pound.

 

Rick's left arm was curled possessively around Daryl's chest, slipped up under Daryl's left bicep with his forearm twisted so that Daryl's chin rested in the palm of his hand, Rick's thumb resting lightly against Daryl's still slightly parted lips. Daryl was completely pinned. Completely immobile with the way their legs were tangled. The deep burn of desire hadn't flared this hot in so long; Daryl barely remembered ever feeling this turned on before. It'd been a long, long time.

 

And then Rick inhaled, coming awake and pressing tighter against the entire length of Daryl's backside in the same softened moment. If the solid weight that pressed into his right asscheek was any indication, Daryl wasn't the only one hot and bothered by the new position. There was a small almost hesitant pause, and then Rick tentatively mouthed the skin behind his ear. Daryl's pulse jumped and his breath hitched at the soft, warm press of Rick's lips. The man certainly liked to taste what he was kissing, any kiss landing on skin being a thing of open-mouthed passion. Rick hummed a little as if he'd noticed the upkick in Daryl's pulse, doing it again and adding in a little slip of his tongue along the back of the cartilage.

 

The liquid lust that suddenly replaced the blood in his veins was like a living energy under his skin and in his muscles and yet Daryl stayed still beneath the weight of Rick's body. Rick's teeth grazed the side of his neck, and Daryl let out a little almost-groan to which Rick answered with a long, low and inquisitive hum that tickled the soft skin beneath his earlobe. Daryl pressed back into the man behind him. Rick pressed down into him a little more in response, bare chest hot against the skin not covered by Daryl's tank top. The thumb against his lips pressed lightly into the hunter's lower lip, dragging over it, and Daryl exhaled a little hard. To his surprise, the hand under his face slipped away after that. For a moment, Daryl couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed that Rick hadn't tried to press the digit further into his mouth than that. The confusion was immediately vanquished when Rick's now free hand slid down his chest a few inches at a time, its progress slow and teasing.

 

The former deputy's legs shifted, restless with pent up energy and with the movement, Rick's hips rocked gently into the soft flesh of Daryl's ass. Realization of exactly what was happening seemed to come on Rick then, as though he were really waking up now, but at the first twitch indicating that he might pull away…Daryl reached back and cupped a hand snugly over the other man's hip, fingertips digging ever-so-slightly into the top of the swell of Rick's own ass. That hot, filthy mouth was back not a heartbeat later, devouring Daryl's neck and the top of his shoulder as Rick pressed even further forward, turning Daryl near completely onto his stomach.

 

Daryl slid his right arm up under their pillow, laying his forehead into it and huffing into the space near his armpit as Rick's hand slid over his sternum and pressed up into his stomach. Daryl lifted himself just a bit, only inches from the mattress. Rick's teeth grazed the place where his neck and shoulder ran together, and Daryl groaned aloud, the sound low and throaty. An answering moan rumbled against that same spot as Rick kissed the nip better.

 

Some of Rick's weight lifted and Daryl almost whimpered, lost in the haze of carnal pleasure when Rick's wandering hand pushed him up a little more, tilting their lower bodies as one and just enough for that talented hand to find its way past the loose waistband of Daryl's sleep pants. Gently, Rick's fingertips carded through thick curls, wrapping around the thick base of the hunter's cock in a slow slide of skin on velvety skin. Daryl did whimper then.

 

It was dry, but for their sweat, and it should have been uncomfortable, but the tremble of muscles, of Daryl's elbows where they supported him off the mattress and the shake in his thighs had very little to do with supporting not only his own weight, but a good portion of Rick's as well. No, it had more to do with the rhythmic jerk of Rick's hand over his dick and the wet drag of the other man's mouth over his neck and shoulder, the way his tongue laved over the back of his ear and even dipped into the shell once or twice. It was the unbearable pressure building like an oncoming explosion low in his gut and the shooting zing of 'too much, not enough, more, fuck' racing up his spine and threatening to spill out of his mouth. If he'd been warm when he'd first woken up, he was burning up now.

 

Rick's thumb dragged over the leaking tip and Daryl's hips stuttered with the sensation, pressing forward just a bit before grinding back. Rick was the one to groan then, the sound guttural and rough and right near Daryl's ear. "Fuck, Grimes," Daryl growled, his voice hoarse.

 

"Your fault," Rick murmured back, his voice breathy and barely there.

 

Daryl would have said something to that, but Rick thumbed at the ridge of nerves just under the head of Daryl's dick and Daryl's vision started to swim. "Rick," he managed and the man pulling him apart hummed in understanding. Rick's hips pressed tighter against Daryl's ass for just a second and then Daryl felt the world tip as Rick pulled him onto his side and then back a little more so that he was practically resting against Rick's chest. Rick's legs wound tighter within Daryl's, pulling him tight into the cradle of Rick's body as the former officer's hand sped up. Daryl's hips jerked with the increased stimulus and he threw his head back with a feral curse. Rick must have anticipated something like that because he'd tipped his head a bit to the side, avoiding a bloody nose.

 

Smooth as silk, Rick slipped the arm Daryl had almost been laying on up to catch Daryl's chin. Daryl, helpless to resist, let the man turn his head and slip his tongue into his mouth. The kiss was sloppy, hungry, and Daryl came whimpering and groaning into Rick's mouth, hips jerking and every muscle trembling with the release of overpowering endorphins. Rick pressed twice into the soft, tensing flesh of Daryl's ass and came a moment later, groaning into Daryl's mouth in turn. They were panting, sweaty, sticky and still Rick insisted on twining his tongue around Daryl's for a few seconds longer, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of him.

 

When Rick finally released him, Daryl took a deep breath. They smelled musky and sweaty and the faint pungent odor of sex filled the air around them. Rick's cum covered hand slid up under Daryl's shirt to press flat over Daryl's heart while the hand that had grasped Daryl's chin reached up to card through Daryl's messy hair. It was a helluva way to wake up, Daryl had to admit.

 

It was a few long moments before Rick seemed capable of coherent speech. Even then the only thing he managed to work out of his mouth were the words, "Shower. Coming?"

 

"I jus' did," Daryl scoffed in a playfully gruff voice. Rick snorted. Several long moments later, Daryl murmured, "I thought y'wanted a damn shower."

 

Rick groaned and began the process of extracting himself from the tangle that was Daryl. Once up, the former officer stripped, dropping his clothes right there on the floor beside the bed. In the blink of an eye, Rick's warm spot was filled by a sprawling Cattle Dog. Daryl took one look at Dundee's inquisitively twitching nose and slid out of the bed on his own side. "On second thought," he murmured and reached for the hem of his tank top. Only to pause and glance over at Rick. The man was rubbing at his eyes with the hand not coated in Daryl's spunk, looking wrecked and sleepy. Daryl's heart constricted a little and with a little inhale to steel himself against the potential reaction, pulled the shirt off. It was a little stiff, nowhere near as fluid a motion as it would have been if his damn shoulder wasn't still a little jacked, but Rick hardly seemed to notice. In two blinks of an eye, Daryl was as naked as Rick, his pants joining his shirt on the floor in short order.

 

Seeing Rick seemed stuck in a loop of rubbing his eyes and covering yawns, Daryl moved off toward the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, "Better hurry up or I'll lock y'out and use all the hot water."

 

"Now, Daryl," Rick grumbled, following him. "That's just mean."

 

"Never claimed I was nice," Daryl responded, but held the shower door for the other man to step in with him before turning and starting the shower. This was probably the second or third time Rick had gotten a good look at the hellish landscape of Daryl's scarred body. The lack of overreaction each time loosened the band of fear around his heart just a little bit more. Maybe someday he wouldn't be worrying about Rick finding fault in him and pushing Daryl away.

 

The shower was quick, efficient, and in no time they were both standing at a mirror and sink to either side of the door, shaving with towels around their waists. Rick, finished first as he just rid himself of all of his facial hair daily now that they had that luxury again. He splashed water over his chin and cheeks then ran long fingers through the wet curls on top of his head. "I'm thinking about cutting it shorter," he said into the quiet of the room. Daryl slowed the razor against his cheek and lifted it carefully away to rinse it.

 

After a moment of consideration, Daryl asked, "How short?"

 

Rick turned his head this way and that for a moment, studying himself in the mirror, and then tugged one curl straight. "Just a bit shorter."

 

Satisfied that Rick wasn't talking about cutting it all off like it'd been when they'd first met – ridiculously, Daryl had always felt Rick looked ruggedly handsome with his hair pushed back over his skull and wavy though he never would have admitted it before and still might not even now – Daryl went back to shaping his goatee.

 

"Whatever you wanna do," he mumbled. Rick nodded once to himself in the mirror and then strolled over to look over Daryl's shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Daryl paused again and held Rick's gaze evenly. After a minute of just looking his fill, Rick stepped forward, laying his palms on the curves of Daryl's shoulders. Leaning down, he brushed a kiss to the top of Daryl's shoulder where low and behold there blazed another love bite in all of its blue and purple glory. Daryl didn't even remember Rick biting him hard enough to leave one of those this time. Had to have happened sometime just before they'd kissed themselves to orgasm. Rick's eyes were practically sparkling with mirth, not leaving Daryl's in the mirror until he pulled away and headed into the bedroom.

 

Rocked to his core by the sudden flood of a feeling of belonging, Daryl slowly picked up his razor again and started in on his other cheek.

 

They were the last ones to breakfast. Carl or Beth had to have come in while they'd been in the shower to get Judith. French toast, turkey sausage and eggs. The atmosphere around the table was amiable and sleepy, everyone looking well rested and happy. Daryl felt a small amount of the peace of the morning settle somewhere under his breastbone, taking up residence next to the trembly part that quivered every time he rubbed the love bite on his shoulder. And he couldn't seem to stop aggravating the sore either. Jason, the observant little shit, pointed his fork at Daryl's hand where he was rubbing into this shoulder and asked, "Stiff?"

 

"Yeah," Daryl murmured and dropped his hand to pick up his fork, shoveling some egg into his mouth.

 

"I figured you might be. You hit the range pretty hard yesterday." That being said, Jason stuffed his mouth with a sausage and said not a word more on the matter. Daryl was grateful at least some of his family knew when to let something drop.

 

"Glenn is really great at shoulder massages," Maggie offered. "He could rub it out for ya."

 

"What are you pimpin' me out now?" Glenn asked in mock indignance. The two of them started in on a playful back and forth immediately. Daryl caught Rick's eye, gauging the man's reaction to what had to be teasing double entendres referencing their "blossoming" relationship. The former deputy was leaning on the edge of the table with his forearms, practically hunched over his plate and happily shoveling food into his mouth. His eyes darted to Daryl as if he'd felt Daryl's eyes on him and, to the redneck's surprise, winked.

 

Shaking his head, Daryl went back to his food.

 

With the plates cleaned up and everyone heading out to work on various necessary tasks like feeding animals, mending paddock fences and weeding in the garden and greenhouses, Daryl found himself at loose ends. He was just about to head outside to see if they would at least let him get away with some weeding in the garden when Jason appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer.

 

"Hey. I patrolled a bit this morning by myself. Figured alone is stealthier. I told Beth and, of course, Bob and Sasha since they were on guard duty this morning, but I'd still appreciate it if we just don't mention it to Rick. He lectured me about going out on my own now that I don't have t' yesterday. I just don't want him t' worry or anything." Daryl stood from where he was nursing a can of soda and faced the kid. On one hand, Daryl didn't like the idea of not tell Rick something like this. Rick had told the kid not to go out alone as a leader and Jason had disregarded him entirely. Then again, Jason had been going out on his own much like Daryl had long before either of them had joined up with a semi-permanent group. In the end, unless something came up that warranted ratting the kid out, Daryl would keep his mouth shut. He gave the kid a small nod in indication of this, and Jason continued after a moment of studying Daryl's body language. "Anyway, there are Walkers hung up in some of the barbed wire and enough of the herd got through to impale on the pike fence in some areas. Must have been a pretty sizable herd that came through last night."

 

Now Daryl knew why the kid was talking to him alone. He'd been beginning to wonder.

 

"I'll get my bow," Daryl murmured, too grateful for the reprieve from restrictions and boredom to question his good fortune or Jason's good will. It took him mere minutes to get his gear and with a nod to Michonne as she was coming into the foyer from the den, out the door the pair of them went. Dundee was sitting patiently on the porch and the dog fell in at Daryl's heel as they made their way over to the person sized gate. Abraham nodded at them when Jason looked up and waved. Rosita continued to stare out over the forest.

 

"I'll run over some of Dun's obedience commands and stuff with ya too while we're out here. He's obviously picked you as his new permanent partner, so it's best you know how to communicate with him," Jason said as he opened up the padlocks and pocketed them one by one. Daryl could get behind that. Wouldn't do anyone any good if the dog wouldn't mind because while he liked Daryl, Daryl didn't speak Dundee's language. Once the three of them were through, Jason tugged the gate closed, checked that the latch was secure and then stepped off in the direction the fence trouble had to be in.

 

It wasn't long before the god awful noises of frustrated and hung up Walkers reached their ears. Dundee growled and slunk a little ahead of them.

 

"Y'know how t' whistle?" Jason asked, eyeing the dog as the canine got farther and farther ahead of them in measured increments.

 

"Yeah," Daryl murmured, watching the dog and their surroundings in turn.

 

"Good." Jason nodded and then glanced Daryl's way to make eye contact as he said, "In a situation where he's focused like he is right now, the only way to get his attention back on you and whatever business is or isn't at hand is a good, short and sharp whistle. Like this."

 

The sound was piercing, and the dog stopped, looking over his shoulder at them and panting. It was almost as if a spell had been broken and released its hold on the dog's focus. Daryl shook his head. He'd hung around Beth a little too long over the last week or so, listening to the princess stories and fairy tales she constantly told Judith.

 

"I got it," Daryl told him. Jason nodded. The first Walker came into view then, and they turned their attention to the task at hand. The first order of business was of course taking out the free roaming Walkers in their immediate vicinity. Jason had brought along a compound bow and two quivers as well as a rifle for each of them and two pistols apiece. He wasn't taking any chances, and Daryl didn't blame him. From the looks of it, "sizeable herd" was an understatement.

 

Hours later, and after several more little lessons in communicating with the dog, they'd finally reached the downed barbed wire. Walkers twisted and writhed, tangled in the now loose coils of the barbed wire strands, focused more on Daryl and Jason now that the two living beings had come into their range of perception. It was sad to see people who might have once been someone's lover, friend, spouse, or relative reduced to a mass of rotting, instinct-driven flesh. Daryl was thankful every day that his father had at least been spared the atrocity. And every day, he mourned for Merle and his Uncle Jess and so many others that he had personally lost since the beginning of the end and for those he didn't really know because they all had to have been important to someone somewhere in some way.

 

The pair of them worked in silence, getting so focused on unwinding the dispatched Walkers from a particularly gruesome twist-up that neither of them noticed the quietly shuffling oncoming mini-herd until they were right in the midst of it. The smell of the Walkers was all over them after the day they'd had so far, so from a distance the rest of the herd couldn't have smelled their live smell. But once they were right on them? Daryl put his hunting knife right into the eye of the first Walker to turn on him. Jason bashed a child Walker's head in with his rifle butt and began picking them off one by one. Daryl killed what he could as he went and pushed hard against the once that got too much into his personal space when he couldn't get in a good killing blow. The move sent the Walkers stumbling and gave him time to get his bow up and aim. Eventually, he and Jason ended up back to back. The herd was diminishing but not quickly enough and Daryl was just starting to get worried when an arrow from somewhere behind the much smaller herd surrounding them sailed right through the temple of the accountant looking Walker that had been pushing into Daryl's personal space.

 

Daryl's shoulder throbbed, and his ankle ached and while he knew he should stay firmly on the side of wary and suspicious, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of relief that he might live to see Rick again before the sun set because on the fletching of the first arrow came more. Before long, with Daryl and Jason and the blurry figure of the man approaching slowly from within the trees, every Walker lay a dead mess on the forest floor before ten minutes were up.

 

Panting, Daryl and Jason both swung to look at the man who let his rifle tip back against his shoulder. Two young women stepped out from the trees just behind him and to either side and the man pulled a nasty smelling cigar out of his mouth and spat at the ground between them.

 

"Adler's boy I presume. Jason, wasn't it?" the man asked, looking to Jason. Jason shifted his weight from foot to foot for a moment and then shrugged.

 

"Dad and Mom have been gone a while. This here's Daryl. He's part of the new family. I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you, sir."

 

Jason sounded on edge, and Daryl kept his crossbow lowered but in both hands, ready to act at the first hint of trouble. He eyed the trio before them and in turn, they eyed him back. One of the women was short, petite and given the way she smiled at him with what was probably a cute little wrinkle of her nose had he been into cute, well proportioned little blonds, she was some kind of hussy. Her choice of attire didn't really disabuse him of that notion either. She reminded him a bit of Rosita with the way she was dressed, only he had more respect for the Spanish Diva guarding the wall. At least he knew Rosita was useful even if she did make him uncomfortable.

 

The other woman? Now she was one to watch out for. Brunette, tall, slender, and with a look on her face that said she'd just as soon eat ya alive as deal with ya. The man eyed Daryl up and down at the introduction from Jason and then chuckled. "Survival takes what it takes. Name's Jethro Mason. These here are mah girls. Daisy's the blond, and Mary Ann is the brunette."

 

"Ah," Jason said after a moment. "I remember y'all now. You own the scrap yard about fifteen miles up the main road."

 

"That'd be us. Mason and Mason's Scrap and Parts. Only the other Mason's dead now." Jethro nodded. "We heard tell that this place was deserted from some folks what passed on by. Thought we'd come scope it out an' see if it were true. Obviously, those poor folks were quite mistaken."

 

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, voice raspy and full of warning.

 

Jethro looked his way and smirked. "Easy, son. We mean no harm."

 

"I ain' yer son," Daryl snapped. Damn he hated that. If you weren't family, don't act like you were. Simple as that.

 

"Daddy's just trying to be friendly!" The little blond woman snapped, glaring daggers at him. Daryl just snorted and shook his head. She looked about ready to start naggin' when Jethro looked over his shoulder at her.

 

"Daisy, honey, these boys have every right to be suspicious. It's not like it used to be anymore."

 

"No it isn't," Jason agreed. "No offense, but we've got a system. Why don't you come back in two days, an' we'll either let ya in or we won't. It'll be up to the group as a whole. Understand?"

 

Jethro nodded. "Fair enough. There's more'n enough daylight t' make it back home before dark. We'll be back in two days then. No sense overstaying our welcome, girls. C'mon."

 

And without another look back all three of them just walked away. Daryl felt his skin crawl. People these days just didn't walk away from a place like the Homestead. They just…didn't.

 

"Looks like we'd better get back," Jason murmured, though his eyes never left the retreating backs of their new…acquaintances.

 

"Yeah. Looks like we need t' talk t' Rick," Daryl murmured.

 

"Yeah…I'm leavin' that t' you." Jason turned and started back toward the gate. Dundee joined them a moment after Daryl did the same, trotting happily along next to Daryl. Daryl glared at Jason's back the whole way home, equal parts peeved and amused at the assumption that just because someone was knocking boots with someone else meant that said left boot had any power over said right boot.

 

As if Rick deferred any special treatment Daryl's way. Tch.

 

 

TBC…


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: So, I got a new computer. Which in my mind means I will be spending lots and oodles and lots of time on this baby since now the screen isn't being rebellious and whiting out on me anymore. Obviously this means more fic-writing from me! Also, no more battery problems cuz it's NEW! Hell yeah! For the record, this chapter was written entirely on said new computer. Just like a christening lol
> 
> PS - The last name Mason was chosen because of the historical Mason-Dixon line here in the USA, Jethro is a classic hillbilly name (I believe one of the Beverly Hillbillies' characters was named Jethro) as is Daisy (like Daisy Duke from the Dukes of Hazard). The name Mary Ann was inspired by the character of the same name from Gilligan's Island (a TV show from waaaaay back when) and I think that's all the nerd-references up to now. ^___^
> 
> Special Thanks: to kat-valkyrian who is now my sounding board chica for this fic! She was a massively huge help with this chapter!

Chapter Eighteen

 

Daryl found Rick working in the garden just as he'd expected he would. The man was determined. He'd decided to be a farmer, and he was going to be a farmer in every sense of the word to the best of his ability. Rick's ribs had stopped bothering him days ago and since the first morning he'd woken up and climbed out of bed without a single hitch of pain, he'd been tending the garden and greenhouses with fervor, getting them back to pristine order. Jason was incredibly grateful that he could now turn his attention to the animals more thoroughly as Daryl had heard several times that morning as the kid had chatted amiable away with or without responses from Daryl. Now, Jason had wandered off to round up those folks out by the animals, leaving Daryl to apprise Rick of the situation as he'd said he would. As if Daryl wouldn't have been the one to talk to Rick either way. Daryl had taken up the task of being Rick’s right hand man, and he would always be the one to fulfill those duties. Regardless of their tediousness or simplicity, in today’s world they meant survival or death. The sooner Daryl informed their leader of the issue at hand, the sooner they could settle on a solution.

 

"Hey," Daryl called, voice raised in gruff greeting as he stepped into the garden. Rick paused, resting the hoe blade flat in the dirt and throwing a limp wrist over the end of its handle to keep it balanced. He looked sweaty, happily work worn, but, true to his words earlier, he didn't look near the crazy mess he would have before he'd gone and gotten his hair cut. Carol had apparently gotten to him around whatever else she was doing that day while Daryl had been out with Jason. He looked good. Real good.

 

Daryl stepped up to him and nodded. Rick dipped his chin in return.

 

"Where ya been?" Rick asked. His voice was merely curious, inquiring about Daryl's day rather than demanding his actual whereabouts. Rick dragged a forearm across his brow, and the sleeve of his button up came away dirtier though the added sweat couldn’t have gotten the fabric any wetter.

 

"Went patrollin' with Jason. Walkers got tangled in some of the barbed wire. Took a good portion of the fence down with'em."

 

Rick pursed his lips as he mulled that information over. Daryl expected questions about fixing the fences outside the wall. Instead, he got, "You sure you're up t' that?"

 

Daryl blinked. It probably would never fail to dumbfound him that Rick's first thoughts in these situations were _Daryl's_ safety. After a moment of searching Rick's earnest face, he found himself looking away. "Yeah. M'fine."

 

Rick's hand settled firmly around the top of his bicep, cupping the muscle through the layers of outerwear. "You're sure?"

 

Rick was tipping his head in that way of his that urged Daryl to look him in the eyes again. It was one of his many mannerisms that had drawn Daryl to him immediately upon meeting him despite the fact that this was the same man that had handcuffed his brother to a roof. Rick had made no bones about who and what he was from the moment Shane had taken Daryl down in a headlock after Daryl had thrown his line of squirrels at Rick. Rick hadn't hesitated to get right in Daryl's face, and he'd shown Daryl right then and there that he was a man worth following, declaring that he'd be going back to get Merle, and Daryl was welcome to come along if he liked. It'd been a slippery slope for Daryl from there.

 

Turning his attention back to the present moment, Daryl slowly dragged his eyes back to lock with cerulean blue. Like this, even in a quiet moment, it was obvious that Rick was a predator, an Alpha wolf in a sea of sheep. A leader and a good one. An honest man, a rarity in the world these days.

 

"Yeah," he murmured and after a second more of staring, Rick nodded and patted his shoulder.

 

"Okay. How'd it go then?"

 

Daryl looked out over Rick's shoulder as the other man settled the hand that had been on Daryl's shoulder onto his own hip instead. It was his 'I'm listening and I'll be listening for as long as it takes to hear everything you have to say' pose. Daryl shifted his weight off of his throbbing ankle and then brought his eyes back to Rick, squinting in the bright midday sunlight.

 

"Got most o' the sumbitches taken care of. Fence still needs mending." Daryl looked away again, this time contemplating how he would tell Rick about the rest of the adventure. He settled on just saying it right out. No beating around the bush. Rick didn’t need to be worrying about something that almost happened and didn’t, when there was something that could still happen looming on the horizon. It was best to just say it and move on. "Another herd came through while we was caught up tryin' t' untangle some o' the dumb bastards." He could just see out of the corner of his eye the way Rick tensed, going stiff and still as he caught on to the direction those words were heading. "Spot got pretty tight 'til some mountain hillbilly an' his daughters showed up."

 

Meeting Rick's intense gaze again, Daryl found those beautiful blue eyes to be stormy. It wasn’t hard to guess that most of that was caused by the mention of other survivors, but given the way Rick deliberately raked his eyes more thoroughly over Daryl from head to toe, some of it was probably caused by Daryl's revelation that despite claiming he was fine enough to be outside the wall, he'd still just admitted to being nearly overrun. Deciding to just get on with it, Daryl offered, "Guess Jason's family knew 'em or somethin'. Guy's name's Jethro Mason. Says he owns the scrap yard up the main road a ways. Guess a group o' survivors passed by the Homestead an' thought it was empty. Said they came by t' check it out."

 

"Lookin' t' loot?" Rick's voice was gravelly.

 

"That'd be my guess."

 

Rick nodded and shifted his weight back onto both of his feet, picking the hoe up by the middle of the handle. "Jason gatherin' the others?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Then let's get inside. We've got some decisions t' make."

 

Daryl nodded and followed just behind Rick's shoulder as they left the garden. Rick left the hoe leaning against the fence just outside the gate, and together they walked up to the house. Daryl did his best to refrain from limping, but as soon as they were weaponless, shoeless and in the kitchen, Rick went to the kitchen freezer and pulled out a gel ice pack. Wrapping it in a dish towel, he brought it over to the table and waited for Daryl to ease himself into the chair he'd chosen before Rick dropped into the one around the table corner from it.

 

"Gimme your foot." Rick patted his thigh with his free hand.

 

"It's fine," Daryl insisted, not meeting Rick's gaze. It made him feel useless and awful to have to have Rick looking after him all the time.

 

"Daryl." Rick's voice was fond but firm. He even leaned down and caught at Daryl's calf with his hand, tugging.

 

Daryl didn't budge. "I said it's fine."

 

"I'm sure it is, but let me do this for me."

 

Reluctantly, Daryl let Rick pull his foot into his lap, resting the redneck's heel on the firm muscle of his thigh. The chill of the cloth wrapped gel pack draping over his sock covered ankle was surprisingly soothing. Rick adjusted the bundle a little when it seemed like it would slip and then glanced up. "Don't you even think about movin' for the next ten minutes at least."

 

Daryl sighed, but there was little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that he just couldn't stop. "Yes, sir," he teased and leaned back into the chair, pointedly getting comfortable. The others started filing in then, and Daryl and Rick both turned their attention to their family. Maggie gave Daryl's good shoulder a squeeze on her way past to the fridge, her face full of sympathy when she glanced at his iced up ankle. Once everyone was seated or gathered near, Rick settled one hand lightly around the arch of Daryl's foot and turned his full focus on the gathering around them. Idly his thumb rubbed at Daryl's arch while the side of his palm pressed the icepack into place, allowing the man to turn his full attention to their conference. It was soothing to be touched so intimately and causally at the same time. Daryl felt his chest tighten, but he pushed the welling emotions down and forced himself to focus on what was being said around him.

 

"…Y'think we should see what they're about then?" Maggie asked. Her face was thoughtful.

 

Jason shrugged. "I don't remember them very well. My folks didn't spend a lot o' time socializin', but Dad occasionally got parts and scrap metal from him."

 

"Did they specifically say anythin' about what they wanted?" Rick asked and his thumb dragged a little harder into the meat of Daryl's arch.

 

"No," Jason answered immediately. "They did save our bacon, but they didn't say what they wanted. They readily agreed to come back in two days, so that we could make a decision about whether or not we even wanted t' deal with'em. No fuss or nothin'."

 

"But they could just be tryin' t' get in. What if they try somethin' once we've let them through?" Carl's voice was tight and Daryl looked up and to his left, studying the boy for a moment. Carl would never admit it, but he was clearly scared that if they let these people in, it would be their utter downfall. Daryl couldn't say he disagreed with the concern.

 

"We've been over this before," Rick answered with an acknowledging nod in his son's direction. "We won't know until we know. It's all guess work 'til then."

 

"So, what do we know now?" Glenn offered, looking thoughtful.

 

Rick's eyes immediately went to Daryl his thumb never stilling. Daryl shifted in his slouch and met Rick's gaze directly. "They're competent. The girls had compound bows an' knew how t' use 'em. They looked well fed. Cleaner than stragglers fer sure. I'd say they got themselves a nice camp. They definitely came t' loot, but didn't take us out when they had the chance."

 

"I'm guessin'," Jason murmured after Daryl had paused in thought, going over in his mind what he could remember of the trio in case anything else that was relevant came to mind. "That he's interested in an alliance or somethin'. I do remember that he was a pretty good business man."

 

Rick nodded, but it took him a moment to pull his eyes from Daryl's face. The lingering look was no little bit puzzling, but Daryl had no idea how to figure out what Rick was thinking just then. The man's expression had gone neutral. "Alright. Let's get everyone's opinion then. One at a time. We already know what we're goin' t' do if this is an attempt t' join us here or a hostile takeover, so I'd say the question right now is, 'If they _are_ after an alliance, what do _we_ want?'"

 

To Rick's immediate right, Michonne spoke up immediately. "An alliance can be burden," she said. "They'll expect things of us."

 

Rick nodded, nibbling on his lower lip. "True."

 

"It could be more trouble than it's worth," she added, her tone saying that was all she had to say on the matter.

 

Rick nodded again and then looked to Tara beside Michonne. Tara fidgeted for just a second and then shook her head as if to clear it. "People used to make alliances all the time, right? I mean, the settlers wouldn't have probably survived without them. I guess, if we think it's beneficial, the pros might outweigh the potential cons. I guess…if it seems safe, I’m for it."

 

Rick's eyes immediately trekked to Sasha. "I think…" she stated slowly, obviously gathering her thoughts, "That we should get to know them a bit first. No contracts are binding in this world, so we'd have to be certain of them before we started any kind of partnership in any great depth."

 

Bob nodded and met Rick's gaze. "Exactly what she said," he stated and Rick gave him a small dip of his chin before turning his gaze to Carol.

 

"I don't know," she told him as soon as their eyes met. She rubbed at the back of her neck and then shrugged. "I think I'd be okay just seeing how things went for a bit, but I'm with Bob and Sasha. We really need to know what we're dealing with first."

 

Maggie immediately shook her head. "I don't trust 'em. I don't know that we should even let them in _to_ get t' know them."

 

Glenn rubbed her arm where his was draped over her shoulders as they shared the seat of one of the chairs. "Maggie's right. What if we let them in and it all goes to hell the second they're through the door?"

 

"We've tried trusting people before, Rick," Maggie's tone was almost pleading. Daryl glanced between the two lovebirds and his brow furrowed. There was something goin' on there. He could just tell. What it was he'd have to find out later, but now he'd definitely be watching them.

 

"I think we should give them a chance," Beth spoke up from where she stood at the island. Daryl had heard her come in from the master bedroom a few minutes ago, probably just finishing up putting Judith down for her nap. It didn't surprise him in the least that she was taking the optimistic approach to the situation. "They could have taken out two of our best fighters, but they _didn't_. They might still be good people."

 

Maggie stared at her. "They might be, but what if they ain't?"

 

"What if they are?" Beth repeated emphatically.

 

Daryl pressed his heel down into Rick's thigh and the man immediately took the hint, his tone placating as he interrupted them.

 

"We're not goin' t' do anythin' rash," he said firmly. Rick's voice was a deep drawl. "But we need to cover the bases. Let's leave the argument of whether or not they're good people until we have a little more evidence."

 

Beth looked away first and Maggie nodded. It seemed to Daryl that that was a discussion that was going to be continued sometime later, and he hoped he wasn’t anywhere near whenever they chose to have it. Beth and Maggie didn't fight often, but just like any other set of siblings, when they did it was usually nasty in their own particular way. Where he and Merle would lock horns and drag out fist fights, those two ripped each other apart with words. On the other hand, where he and Merle would laugh it off and slap each other's backs afterward, Maggie and Beth would cry and hug and apologize repeatedly when they'd finally gotten over whatever had set them off. Again, Daryl hoped he wouldn’t be _anywhere_ near it.

 

Having gone completely around the table, they'd reached Carl, who was still standing to Daryl's left, as the next person to voice his opinion. Thankfully, Abraham and Rosita were still on guard duty. Rick would likely go speak to them when this was done, but Daryl really hadn't adjusted to the two newest members of their family yet. Rosita seemed to delight in indirectly making Daryl uncomfortable, and Abraham was the loud, smart-mouthed asshole Daryl would have probably knocked out had they met in a bar before the world went to shit. Rick looked to his son and Daryl's eyes followed. Carl looked back, the eyes of a man in the face of a boy. "I don't want to let them," he told them his tone earnest. "But if getting t' know them and makin' some kind of alliance with them keeps us alive longer then maybe we should at least look into it."

 

Daryl glanced to Rick. Knowing he'd find a smile and actually seeing _that_ expression on the man's face were two different things entirely. He looked so proud. When Rick nodded, the motion a little stilted, Daryl glanced back to Carl. The boy still looked so serious, and Daryl actually felt a little swell of pride in his own chest. Carl was turning into a good man despite all of Lori's – and Carl's own – fears. The back of Daryl's neck prickled, and he glanced back at Rick, only to find that the other man was looking at him the perfect picture of patience. Daryl glanced around and found that everyone else was looking at him too. Nervous with all eyes on him, he lifted his thumb to his mouth and chewed the edge of his nail for a moment. Choosing his words carefully, he finally murmured, "If they ain' legit, I'm gonna personally make them regret tanglin' with this family."

 

Rick's hand gave his foot a squeeze as he smirked and turned his attention back to the group as a whole. "All in all, I'd say we're leanin' towards at least givin' 'em a chance t' prove their worth as allies. We'll be clear: no one is movin' in and we will _not_ be surrenderin', but a partnership is available for discussion."

 

There were agreeable nods from just about everyone but Maggie. Daryl found that even stranger. The woman was normally pretty good about seeing both sides. She wasn't as much of an optimist as her little sister, but she still tended to look at the world through more a positive perspective than this.

 

"Alright then. I'm gonna go talk t' Abraham and Rosita. Get their opinion in the matter. If anybody has concerns they’d like t’ talk about, Daryl an’ myself are always available."

 

The group dispersed, but Daryl only had eyes for Glenn and Maggie as the pair made their way to the foyer and then the stairs. Rick's fingers sliding up under his pant leg to squeeze his calf just above his ankle dragged his attention back immediately.

 

"I'm sure they'll tell us when their ready," Rick murmured, his tone clearly an attempt to soothe Daryl's maybe-more-obvious-than-he'd-like concern for the lovebirds. "How's your ankle?"

 

Daryl flexed the joint in question, the heel of his foot dragging over the muscle of Rick's thigh. He had to admit it did feel a lot better than when he'd hauled his ass into the house up those porch steps. "Better," he told Rick and the man's small smile was worth the admission.

 

"Good." Rick gently eased Daryl's foot out of his lap and tossed the dish towel and gel pack on the table. "Mind checkin' in on Judy for me while I go talk t' the watch dogs?"

 

"Sure," Daryl murmured and pushed himself to his feet. Rick stood at the same time, catching Daryl's elbow before he could turn to leave the table.

 

"I _need_ you t' be more careful." Rick's voice was low, almost a hoarse whisper. Daryl studied his face but for once, Rick wasn't staring him down. Daryl felt his heart clench. Tentatively, feeling unbelievably uncoordinated, he leaned forward and pressed chapped lips to Rick's bowed forehead. The other man instantly wound his arms around Daryl's body and held on tight for just a second before pulling away. Without another word or even a glance backward, Rick headed off into the foyer. Daryl stared after him for a few moments before making his way into the master bedroom. Judith lay sleeping in his crib, peaceful and small. Daryl thought he might be able to watch her for hours and never tire of the sight. She was a little miracle, the first he’d ever witnessed with any sense of owning a little part of that magic. Reaching down he brushed a little wisp of her bright colored hair off her smooth little forehead. She didn’t even stir, so trusting in the safety of the world her father and family had built around her from the moment she’d come into it.

 

Carl found him still there some indefinite length of time later. Daryl heard the boy's soft steps on the hardwood floor behind him as he progressed down the hall and into the room. For a moment, the boy just watched him. Daryl's back tensed under the scrutiny, but knowing it was Carl, he remained as he was. After a long moment, Carl said, "Dad wanted me t' ask you if you an' Jason could get back on those fences. He wants them up for when those people come. He said it would show them that we're competent."

 

"Makes sense," Daryl murmured and pushed away from where he'd been partially leaning on the side of the crib. "Get yer gun. Y'can keep watch while the cowboy an' I get 'er done."

 

Carl nodded, his face serious as he turned away, leading Daryl out of the room and back to the foyer. It only took them both seconds to grab their weapons from the hooks on the walls and slip into their shoes. Jason was leaning on the porch steps pillar when the two of them exited the house. At the bottom of the steps sat two rolls of barbed wire, a three gallon bucket of parts and a tension ratchet. In silence, the three of them gathered their supplies and headed out. It was going to be a long and grueling afternoon.

 

By the time the day of their guests' expected arrival came, Jason had directed the rest of the group into making the place more than presentable. Not a hay bale out of place or a weed in the garden. The day before Rick and Daryl had spent some quiet time together working in a comfortable silence to set up the apartment in the loft of the horse barn as a functional meeting room. It would also double as a holding room for their guests to stay in until they were sent on their way. It had been nice working in close quarters with Rick again. They had moved about the place like a well-oiled, concerted machine, cleaning and fixing and just generally making the place livable again. It was ultimately with the intention of Maggie and Glenn being able to take it over once their guests had moved on, so Daryl found himself putting in extra effort to make sure the place was secure and comfortable. If that made it nicer for their potential allies, well, as Rick had put it while watching Daryl really scrub at the tiles in the bathroom, "If it makes us look better, the better we'll be."

 

Now though, it was the simple tedium of waiting for their potential guests to arrive. Rick had called one more meeting first thing that morning, going over the greeting arrangements and making sure that everyone would be where he would need them. Jason and Daryl would be the ones going out to greet the Masons should they actually turn up. Sasha and Bob as well as Carl, Glenn and Maggie would be taking up positions along the front wall of the compound all of them armed and ready to defend Jason and Daryl should things go south. Rick would meet them on the dirt lot between the house and garden when they passed Jason and Daryl's checkpoint and were permitted through the gate. Michonne and Abraham were to be Rick's personal guards while Rosita and Tara would be hovering nearby but out of immediate sight. Beth and Carol had taken charge of Judith and Mika respectively. They were all aware of the backup plan: an escape route Jason had gone over with each of them individually and all of them as a group multiple times to ensure everyone would know which way to go and where to meet up. They were as ready as they ever would be to take on this daunting next step in the survival of the human race.

 

At present, Jason lounged beside Daryl on the front steps. Inside the house, Daryl could just hear the murmur of voices. He could make out a few words every so often and the tone and snippets of dialogue gave him the impression that Rick was having a serious discussion with Carl about whether or not it was a good idea to have him on the wall for this. Daryl had been the one to recommend putting the kid on the catwalk. Carl was undeniably an excellent shot, and Daryl wanted every advantage for he and Jason to make it back inside should the need arise. Rick had agreed, but was currently making sure it was what Carl wanted and that the boy understood the expectations of such a responsibility.

 

"Think they'll show?" Daryl mumbled. Jason was close enough to hear him.

 

"Yeah. I do. The Masons were known around town for being businessmen. I can't imagine that he'd want t' expend the energy t' attack this place, so the only other reason they didn't kill us on the spot was because they think we're more valuable alive than dead." Jason rubbed at his thigh and then shrugged when he caught Daryl's glance in his direction. "But who knows?"

 

They fell silent again. Dundee lay snoring at Daryl's feet. A few chickens scratched and pecked around in the dirt lot. A goat, bleated softly in greeting as another goat strolled up to join it in the front yard not too far away. All in all, it was a peaceful day something that was a rarity until they'd made the Homestead their permanent home.

 

"They're here!" Sasha called suddenly from above and Jason heaved himself up instantly. The kid turned and offered Daryl a hand. Daryl stared at the offered limb for all of two seconds before he slapped his own palm against Jason's and allowed the kid to help him up. Once Daryl was steady on his feet, Jason grabbed his rifle from its lean against the house and checked his pistols. Daryl checked the pistol at his own hip and then took up his new crossbow.

 

"Rick!" Daryl called into the house. A moment later, Rick, Carl, Abraham and Michonne stepped out the front door. Abraham and Michonne moved passed them, Michonne patted Daryl's arm on the way by in a little display of her care and concern for Daryl's part in all of this. Daryl still loved the shit out of that woman, even though they didn't spend as much time together as they had while they were making runs for the prison. He reached back and tapped her elbow in return before she got too far away.

 

Carl stopped in front of Daryl the moment he twisted all the way back around from his exchange with Michonne. The boy had an incredibly serious look on his face not unlike the one he'd worn two nights previous. "Be careful," he said, and Daryl reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

 

"Don' worry 'bout me, kid," Daryl murmured with a smirk. "I got a sharp shooter watchin' my back."

 

The grin on Carl's face was a far better sight than the worried frown that had been there seconds before. Carl nodded once then turned and sauntered off to the stairs that would take him up to the catwalk where Maggie, Glenn, Bod and Sasha were already in position. As he watched the boy move off, the air to his left turned heavy, Rick's presence a warm weight on his awareness. Daryl turned to greet him narrowed eyes immediately locking with Rick's own squinting gaze. The eye contact lasted a second before Rick looked back over his shoulder, taking in Abraham waiting by the gate to let Jason and Daryl out. Then he ran a hand over his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture full of nerves as he looked back to Daryl.

 

"You ready for this?" Rick asked, and Daryl knew he was seeking a little more reassurance.

 

Reaching out, Daryl gently patted Rick's stomach. It was a gesture he'd used countless times back at the prison before facing the world beyond their defenses, the feel of Rick's core against his palm reassuring to him in the same way the touch itself was reassuring to Rick. Brushing past the other man as closely as he could to savor that last millisecond of Rick's nearness, he answered in a low murmur, "Yeah. We got this."

 

Then he and Jason were striding toward the gate, and Daryl's world narrowed to the task at hand: keeping his family safe from all threats no matter the cost.

 

 

TBC…


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Thanks gain to kat-valkyrian for her help with this chapter and also thank you Akaitsume for listening to some Daryl introspection and whatnot to make sure the last part of this chapter wouldn't come off as OOC. Love you ladies!!

Chapter Nineteen

 

The Mason Trio were just approaching the wall when Jason and Daryl slipped through the gate. Neither of the girls had arrows nocked, but they were, as Daryl had seen before, quick draws, so that didn't mean they weren't as deadly as if they had arrows at the ready. Jethro's rifle rested casually in the crook of his arm, and he ambled toward them with all the confidence of a man who already knew the outcome of the situation.

 

"Afternoon, gentlemen!" Jethro called, stopping about six feet from where Jason and Daryl had stopped shoulder to shoulder, weapons at the ready. Daryl glanced at Jason, finding the young man looking at him. It dawned on Daryl then that as Rick's second in command this was _his_ show on this side of the wall, _especially_ in front of these people. It would give a sense of order and organization to have that solid social structure blatantly on display. Though no one had apparently seen fit to discuss it; like it was a given that Daryl would be taking charge today. Daryl felt his gut get tight and his palms got sweaty. What if he fucked this all up? He wasn't a diplomat. As if in answer to Daryl's thoughts, Jason's eyes flicked toward the Masons pointedly. Daryl blew a small sigh out through his nose. It really didn't matter, did it? This was just one more thing he was doing for _Rick_ , to make the man's life that much easier and, more importantly, to keep him safe. In the end, that mattered more than Daryl's insecurities. Turning his attention back to the group in front of him, Daryl took one step forward. The question, 'What would Rick say?' ghosted through the back of his mind, but Daryl wasn't sure he'd be able to follow through on anything he might come up with in that regard. He'd just have to wing it.

 

"What the hell are y'all thinkin' y'might get outta this?" he asked, deciding beating around the bush wasn't worth the effort.

 

"An ally," Jethro answered immediately. He had seemed to stiffen when Daryl had stepped forward instead of Jason. "In case y'all hadn't noticed, the world's gone a few steps back. Those of us not trying t' eat each other would probably do well t' band together, however we can, an' see what we can make o' this new world."

 

"Yeah. We've dealt with men with pretty words before," Daryl said and shook his head. "We ain' about t' give _you_ any more ground than we gave him."

 

"I think that's fair," Jethro said his tone nothing but agreeable. "We don' know each other, but I can see that y'all are willin' t' at least give us a chance or y'wouldn't be out here right now. That's good. It means our people might survive longer still."

 

Daryl lifted his chin, eyeing the three of them with obvious reluctance as he informed them, "Yeah. We just wanna be clear. We ain' taken in strays an' we ain' int' surrenderin'. You get that?"

 

"Yes. An' if that's the case, then I think we'll be getting' on jus' fine," Jethro told him with a wide grin.

 

Daryl gnawed on his lower lip for a moment before spitting to the side and stepping forward. There wasn't a lot of ground to cover between them so in seconds he was looking Jethro right in the eye. "We'll be takin' those weapons fer now. Y'all won' be needin'em on the inside."

 

Daryl heard the rustle of leaves as Jason came up behind him. Jethro and both girls handed over guns, quivers, bows and knives without protest, Jason taking all of the weapons and either shouldering them or sticking them in his waistband or pockets accordingly. Daryl brusquely patted Jethro down and when the man stepped aside, his girls made to follow him. Daryl, not leaving anything to chance, shoved his own discomfort down hard in the back of his mind and lifted an arm barring their way. "Sorry, ladies. Ain' nothin' personal."

 

Daisy looked like she'd swallowed a tadpole, but Daryl wasn't taking no for an answer. They didn't have the luxury of being gender courteous.

 

"Go on girls. I'm sure Daryl's goin' t' be the perfect gentlemen," Jethro ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

 

"Y'all could at least buy a gal dinner first," Daisy grumbled almost sounding good-natured as she lifted her arms. Daryl ignored her, running his hands over places he'd known women to keep small guns and knives hidden. He stepped away as soon as possible and turned his attention to Mary Ann who was staring him down like she'd rather gut him than play along. Daryl met her stare for stare. It took Jethro clearing his throat for her to let out a huge, aggravated sigh and spread her arms. Daryl went over her body with the same brusque thoroughness that he'd gone over Daisy and then quickly stepped away with a nod to Jason.

 

"Right this way folks," Jason murmured and turned heading straight for the gate. Daryl brought up the rear, eyes trekking all over the forest around them and glancing behind them periodically despite the short walk to the wall. It wasn't until they were all through and Glenn was locking up the gate behind them that Daryl felt he could relax even a little bit.

 

Jethro and Daisy seemed to have the same reaction they all had had their first time through the gate. Jethro let out a long, low whistle and Daisy gasped, little hands flying to her mouth. Mary Ann, however, just stared hard at the rest of the welcoming party where Rick, Abraham and Michonne stood just a few feet in front of them. Something about the way the woman was assessing Rick, with a long and hard stare like she was just drinking in the sight of him, made Daryl's hackles rise. Unable to resist, he brushed past their guests and stepped right up to Rick, mostly blocking Mary Ann's view as he leaned in close. Rick bowed his head a bit, expression open.

 

"Gave up their weapons without a fuss. Man says he wants t' form an alliance exactly like Jason thought he would," Daryl informed him in a voice pitched low. "Didn't seem put off by our conditions neither."

 

Abraham moved forward after hearing Daryl's words, offering to take some of the weapons from Jason, who handed them over gratefully. Rick watched the exchange for a brief second then turned his attention back to Daryl. The man laid a hand on Daryl's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before he stepped away. Daryl turned and followed, sticking close to Rick's side. It was comforting that Michonne was right beside him with her fingers curled lightly around the hilt of her katana. She was just as unlikely to let anything happen to Rick as he was.

 

"Your weapons will be put somewhere safe for the duration of your stay," Rick drawled as he neared the group. A nod from him sent Abraham and Jason off with said weapons so that they could store them while Rick kept their guests occupied. "I'm sure you can understand our concerns with allowin' complete strangers int' our home given what it's like outside these walls."

 

"No hard feelings," Jethro told him and offered his hand. Rick, after only a moment's hesitation, took the last step forward so that he could take it. "Name's Jethro Mason. These here are mah girls. Daisy's the little blond beauty there. Mary Ann's the leggy brunette."

 

"Oh, Daddy," Daisy giggled and playfully slapped her father's bicep as she moved by him to offer Rick her hand as well. Rick gave her a light handshake and did the same when Mary Ann quietly offered her hand as well, but seemed to find the taller woman wasn't inclined to let him pull away as quickly as Daisy had.

 

"It's a pleasure to meet you…?" Mary Ann murmured questioningly, her eyes staring right into Rick's.

 

"Rick Grimes," Rick answered, stepping back and pulling his hand gently but firmly from the woman's grip. "This here, as I'm sure you're all aware, is Daryl Dixon. And this is Michonne. That's Abraham, and if I’m not mistaken y'already know Jason."

 

Jethro nodded. Daisy chirped a polite southern belle hello, and Daryl noticed that Mary Ann had yet to take her eyes off Rick. It was starting to make Daryl grind his teeth a little in annoyance. He knew the man looked good in the light blue plaid button down he was wearing, but she didn't have to stare at him like she was undressing him with her eyes. There was an oddly heavy feeling growing inside him, one that made his shoulders feel tight and his chest feel twisted. Just the thought of that bitch putting her hands on Rick again, or even getting closer to him than she already was was enough to start Daryl's blood boiling.

 

"It looks like Jason's Pa wasn't all that crazy after all," Jethro said, pulling Daryl suddenly from his tumultuous thoughts. The man took another slow look around and hummed. " _And_ he's found himself a good family group."

 

"Y'all do seem real nice," Daisy put in her smile sweet as sugar. It seemed she was having trouble looking away from Rick too which soured Daryl's mood even more.

 

"Thank you," Rick responded politely, but he then made it clear he wasn't there for small talk by getting right back to business. "We've got a place set up for you three t' stay the night. We're not the type t' send y'all home after dark. We'll be having our conversation up there as well."

 

"Much obliged," Jethro drawled and when Rick turned to lead the way to the horse barn, Daryl fell in directly behind his shoulder, leaving Michonne to take up the rear. Once they were safely in the apartment, Rick invited the three of them to sit, taking the armchair he and Daryl had moved to the other side of the coffee table the day before. Jethro settled on the middle couch cushion and his girls settled to either side of him. Daryl, aware that Michonne was going to stay by the door, took it upon himself to retrieve a bottle of warm water for everyone. It had been decided that they would share as little information as possible with these folks until a decision could be made to treat them better or throw them out on their asses entirely. Daryl had wordlessly agreed that the fewer Homestead benefits that came to light during this initial visit, the better off they'd be.

 

Once everyone had a drink, including Michonne, Daryl settled himself in the armchair that they had moved off to the right of the one Rick now sat in. The room was silent for a few moments while everyone took a sip of water and got comfortable. However, Rick had never been a very patient man once he'd set himself on a path, and it wasn't long before he was leaning back into the pillowy embrace of the chair and asking, "So, I hear you want t' form some sort of alliance."

 

Jethro cleared his throat and wiped some moisture from his beard hidden lips. "That's exactly right. Way I see it, y'all've got things we don't an' we've got things y'all might need. Workin' together gives us the opportunity t' pool our resources, conserve our food caches and, should the need ever arise, there would be some help t' call on if either o' us gets int' some kinda trouble."

 

"What Dad means is," Mary Ann spoke up and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. Even from the angle Daryl was at and despite focusing hard on her face, he still found he could see straight down her shirt. Damn but he hated women. They were such conniving people. "We would like t' trade with you. He wants to barter for goods, supplies and necessities."

 

"Like two neighborin' countries!" Daisy looked incredibly pleased with herself for that analogy. Rick glanced about the three of them for a moment before folding his hands over his abdomen.

 

"I see," he murmured and then nodded a little. "We'd have t' work out some kind o' system, a way t' communicate, make a schedule and a way t' keep it all balanced."

 

"But it would be worth it, son! I can promise you that." Jethro seemed so certain that this was the best way. Daryl didn't exactly disagree but he certainly wasn't too happy about the risks this arrangement would be exposing his family to.

 

"Can you now?" Daryl's eyes darted over to Rick. That was his serious voice. "What do y'think you've got that we might possibly need?"

 

Jethro smirked. "It ain't all about the resources," he stated. "Sure necessities are important, but not all resources are things y'can hold in yer hands."

 

"I'm listenin'," Rick acknowledged a moment after Jethro had paused as though letting those words sink in. The rest of the meeting was a tedious and repetitious stretch of conversation. Rick and Jethro went back and forth about the pros and cons of an alliance, half-hashing out most of the parameters and details as they went. At one point, and all Daryl could think was 'Thank fuck a break,' Glenn had interrupted them by bringing in some home baked snacks. Rick had asked him to bring back some pens and notepads, and Glenn ended up staying, settling himself on the floor so that he could use the coffee table as a desk while he wrote out the important points of the discussion.

 

The sun had set and all of the baked goods had vanished by the time the room fell silent. Daisy yawned and rocked up onto her feet. "Well, I'm beat."

 

"I'm sure we all have plenty t' think about t'night," Mary Ann added and stood with all the grace of a doe. Daryl got to his feet at the same time as Jethro, Glen and Rick standing up almost immediately after.

 

"We do," Rick agreed and glanced around like he was checking the place over one last time. "If you need anythin', anythin' at all, you jus' knock on that door and one o' the guards will getcha whatever you need. There's some dry foods in the cupboards and some bottled water under the counter. Feel free to help yourselves."

 

Glenn was already walking out of the apartment. Daryl waited for Rick and Jethro to shake hands one last time and then followed the other man out. Michonne filed out behind him and as a unit the four of them moved off along the landing until they stood in front of the tack room away from prying ears. Already, Tara was settling herself in a chair by the apartment's door, taking up first watch. Daryl couldn't help but notice that Michonne was focused almost entirely on the other woman. Rick seemed to notice as well.

 

"You're sure you're okay t' take first watch?" Rick asked.

 

Michonne nodded, saying, "Tara and I will have it covered until about two or so. At that point, Abraham and Rosita will be relieving us."

 

"Good. Good," Rick murmured and rubbed at his chin his five o'clock shadow sounding like sandpaper under his roughened fingertips. "Thank you."

 

Michonne simply turned her lips up in a classic smile and then made her way over to join Tara by the door. Once she was gone, Glenn said, "I'm gonna see if I can't write this up into some kind of formal document."

 

Rick nodded and as if that were a dismissal, Glenn too turned and walked away, taking the stairs at a jog. Rick looked to Daryl then and Daryl felt himself go still. "Tell me the truth," Rick said, tone completely earnest. "Do y'think this is the right thing t' do?"

 

Daryl shifted his crossbow to his shoulder, letting the strap take its weight so he could fold his arms. "If they're tellin' the truth," he began and glanced back at the door for a moment. When he turned back, Rick was still staring at him with those searching blue eyes. "They've got a real doctor there…and a teacher…I'd say we could use the extra hands. So long as they don't drag us down."

 

Rick nodded and patted Daryl's shoulder. After a moment, his hand settled, and he gently steered Daryl around. That hand then fell to the small of Daryl's back as they made their way over to the stairs. Once on the steps that hand disappeared, but Daryl felt its ghost-touch all the way back into the house.

 

\----------

 

Three days. It had been three days of limited tours, discussions on morals, runs and resources, and watching their backs for knives that never landed.

 

Daryl was tired of playing nice with people he wasn't entirely sure he trusted yet. Being tired put him on edge. It made him irritable. Incredibly irritable.

 

He hadn't realized just how much he'd come to appreciate the moment to unwind his downtime with Rick gave him. Now that Rick was spending almost every waking moment watching over the Mason Trio, Daryl hardly saw him face to face. Lately, the only time he got to spend with Rick was either sleeping or when it was Daryl's shift for following the man around as he discussed labor and trade balance. Carl had started calling it Guard Dog Duty, and Daryl had to admit it was a pretty accurate description of the situation. Judith cooed up at him from where she rested in the crook of his arm, pulling him out of thoughts. She'd finished her breakfast bottle a few minutes ago, but she'd promptly started to fuss when he'd made to get up out of the rocking chair, so he started rocking her again, pleased by the fact that she was pleased. Rick came out of the bathroom seconds after he'd started to rock her again.

 

"She bein' fussy?" the other man asked softly, cupping a broad hand to the crown of Judith's head.

 

Daryl offered Rick the empty bottle. "Yeah," he murmured. Bottle gone from his fingers, Daryl tugged the baby blanket a little bit tighter around Judith's legs. It was starting to really get chilly out. He'd have to talk to Jason about how to get the place heated up for the settling cold. They were unlikely to have any more warm days.

 

Fiddling with the bottle, Rick glanced up at the door and then slowly turned his attention back to the pair in the rocking chair. "I honestly can't wait for these folks to be on their way," he murmured and leaned down to kiss his daughter's forehead a few times the action slow and measured. Rick's way of savoring moments that would change all too soon. Judith was definitely getting bigger given Daryl's arm was getting tired already.

 

"Day after tomorrow," Daryl reminded him, thankful for the reminder himself that these discomforts - like the nerves from having to spend so much time caring for a baby when he hardly knew much at all about it and the frustration he was starting to feel like pressure building at the base of his skull every time Daisy batted her lashes at Rick or Mary Ann flashed a little cleavage Rick's way - were temporary. He was pretty certain that they were both directly attempting to catch Rick's eye. He just wasn't so sure as to do something about it. And even if he was certain, he really didn't know what the fuck he should do. He trusted Rick. He just…wasn't sure. About any of it.

 

Daryl wasn't stupid. He'd been listening to the things Rick had said to him over the last few weeks from kind words to words of affection. He'd also been listening to the unspoken things like the desire the man showed best with his mouth on Daryl's skin and the terror of losing Daryl that ran deeper than any words he'd said so far. The terror that showed up in the deepest part of the night when Rick would jolt awake and pull Daryl in so tight that the hunter would squirm awake and roll over to pull Rick close instead. A terror that Daryl honestly shared. Losing Rick would gut him, and he was beginning to realize that it wasn't just the separation of death that was making his heart clench and twist about in his chest. Every time Mary Ann leaned a little closer, every time she reached out to push lightly at Rick's arm, playful in whatever she was talking about, Daryl realized that love wasn't a permanent thing. People fell out of love with other people all the time. The thought of Rick finding his desire for that woman was stronger than his love for Daryl…just the _thought_ fractured his heart. And, like right now, he usually sought Rick's touch out when he was feeling that dread, urgent in the moment to have whatever time he could with this wonderful, fragile thing between them before it withered and died in the darkness and bad luck that tended to follow Daryl around like a storm cloud.

 

Feeling that ache, he reached up, sliding a hand to the back of Rick's neck before he could straighten fully from kissing Judith's forehead. Rick moved easily under Daryl's touch and pressed his forehead to Daryl's with a soft hum. "Mornin'."

 

"Yeah," Daryl answered his voice barely a whisper.

 

It amazed him that he'd become so tactile with Rick. Touch had never been something good to him before, but over the last few years, Rick had broken through that conditioning with handshakes and shoulder pats and painless backslaps that never rocked Daryl on his feet like Merle's always had. Now he craved the man's nearness and sought contact with him whenever possible even if it was just the brush of their knees or ankles at dinner.

 

"I should get goin'," Rick murmured. Tipping his head, he dipped in and brushed a light kiss to Daryl's mouth. Daryl's fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of Rick's neck, and he deepened the kiss just a little before finally letting him go. When Rick drew back, he studied Daryl for a moment. Daryl turned his eyes back to Judith and hoped he could pretend that everything was fine. Rick was surprisingly attuned to Daryl's moods these days. "Maybe we can do lunch. You, me, Carl and Judy."

 

"Sure," Daryl mumbled, wiggling Judith's hand back and forth with the fingers she'd latched on to. Rick lingered for a moment more and then reached out to squeeze Daryl's shoulder before leaving the room.

 

Those words came back to him round about midday when Daryl's stomach let out a fierce growl, causing Carl, who was sitting across from him in one of the armories cleaning pistols while Daryl fletched more arrows, to grin and chuckle. "I guess it's lunch time."

 

Daryl snorted. "Yeah. I'll get yer dad. Go get your sister's lunch t'gether."

 

Carl nodded and laid the oil cloth and gun bits down before sliding off the stool. As had been his habit since the arrival of the Masons, Daryl shouldered his crossbow and made his way out of the basement after Carl. Stepping off the porch steps, he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight and called up to Carol on the cat walk. "Y'seen Rick?"

 

Carol smiled, wordlessly pointing to the horse barn. Daryl waved his thanks and moved off in that direction. Only one of the main doors was open, leaving the interior of the barn dim enough that it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. As shadows became shapes, Daryl felt the bottom of his stomach drop right out to be replaced with a cold and roiling emotion he wasn't terribly familiar with. Rick looked like he'd taken a break from shoveling sand out of a wheelbarrow and into one of the stalls, leaning back against one of the support pillars. He'd pulled his coat off, leaving him looking trim and attractive in just his plaid button up and white, long sleeve shirt. Apparently, Daryl wasn't the only one who thought so.

 

Mary Ann was just stepping into Rick's personal space, one dainty foot settling between Rick's well-worn boots, when Daryl had come through the door. Both of her hands lightly landed on Rick's chest before she rub them up, fingers playfully sliding over Rick's collar. Her goal was clear, but she'd miscalculated Rick's reaction. The man was instantly tense, hand flying up to catch at her wrists before she could loop them over the back of his neck and he straightened, using his height to put his mouth out of reach. Daryl had seen all he could stand to see.

 

The side of his fist hit the open barn door, making a horrible thunking and rattling racket. Mary Ann startled, but didn't step back, only her head whipping around so she could stare at Daryl indicating he'd caught her off guard. It was Rick pushing her back and straightening that dragged actual words out of Daryl's tight throat. "Judy and Carl are hungry. They're waitin' for y' in the kitchen."

 

"Daryl-"

 

Turning, the hunter made a bee-line for the gate that lead out of the Homestead, thankful that Jason had given Daryl his dad's copy of the padlock key. If Rick called after him again, he didn't hear it, closing the door behind him and setting off into the wooded area along the wall with the intention of finding himself a good sitting tree. Once he'd found one, he settled on a branch about seven or eight feet off the ground and loaded a bolt.

 

By the time he'd bagged squirrel number ten, Daryl had straightened himself out. Certainly, he was angry. He was absolutely pissed actually. Pissed like he'd been pissed any time any of Merle's friends had touched his crossbow. Pissed like he'd been pissed when he'd had to watch the Governor beating Rick near to death while Daryl had been unable to make his way to Rick's side. And he was scared. Afraid that Rick really would find he wanted that fucking bitch more than he wanted Daryl. It had been obvious in the man's body language that he wasn't interested in what Mary Ann was offering right then, but…what about further on down the line? When they'd gotten to know each other better.

 

Glancing around, Daryl noted that the light was fading around him. Ready or not, it was time for him to head back inside the walls. Shouldering his string of squirrels and letting his crossbow rest in both of his hands, Daryl made his way back along the wall until he reached the gate. Once inside, he dutifully locked the padlocks again and then turned only to find Maggie slowing to a stop in front of him.

 

"Daryl?" she inquired, her tone concerned and curious. "Carol said you stormed outta here like your tail was on fire. What happened? What's with the squirrels?"

 

Daryl spat in the dirt off to the side and growled with a bit more menace than he'd intended. "I needed sumthin' t' throw at that bitch's head."

 

"That…?" Maggie's eyes widened and she quickly moved into Daryl's personal space her demeanor going from concerned to really concerned in less than the blink of an eye. "What _happened_?"

 

The anger he'd managed to drain away roiled right back up and Daryl felt the infamous Dixon Temper boiling up beneath the surface again. "That brunette bitch. I walk int' the barn an' she's got her paws all over him."

 

Maggie covered her mouth with one delicate hand and shook her head as if denying it made it less real. "So you went squirrel hunting?"

 

Turning, too suddenly wound up to stay still, Daryl stomped a few feet away and then spun back on his heel. He really wanted to hit something. "I had t' clear my head," he snapped stomping back in Maggie's direction. He was about to just brush past her, so done with talking about it already, when Maggie reached out and caught at his arms, her fingers digging into the denim of the jacket he wore under his vest.

 

"Hey. Hey," she murmured. "You have every right to be upset, but what did Rick do?"

 

Daryl fidgeted and readjusted the weight of the squirrels on his shoulder, looking away. "He was about t' push her off."

 

Maggie's voice was deadly serious when she asked, "Yer sure?"

 

Daryl nodded, feeling the anger draining away a bit again with the memory of Rick's look of discomfort and stiffened posture. He hadn't wanted her touching him and that felt good. "Yeah."

 

"Then, Daryl, you need t' let it go. Rick's _not_ gonna leave you. Not after everything." Maggie patted his chest twice. "Unless you've told them, the Mason's don't know either of you are taken remember?"

 

"You an' yer voice o' reason bullshit," Daryl mumbled half-jokingly after a moment of contemplating those words. She _was_ right. He just hadn't been capable of thinking about it any way but mad before.

 

Maggie grinned. "That's what honorary sisters are for. Go clean your squirrels. Rick's been worried sick."

 

Daryl nodded and this time Maggie let him pass. Feeling ten times the fool, Daryl climbed the steps to the house slowly. He made it all the way to the kitchen before Rick emerged from the den. Daryl dropped the pile of squirrels on the table and stared at them as Rick slowly padded over in his socks.

 

"Squirrels?" he asked and Daryl managed to force himself to flick a glance in Rick's direction to gauge his reaction better. He looked…confused. Daryl's grip on the back of the chair in front of him tightened until his knuckles were white.

 

"I need t' clear my head," he admitted. Then went one step further and confessed, "I wanted somethin' t' throw at that bitch's head, too."

 

Rick moved in closer until Daryl could actually feel the radiant heat of his body now that Daryl was without his protective outer layers. "So…" Rick inquired, his tone light. "You're jus' throwin' squirrels at anybody now?"

 

It took Daryl about have a second to realize what Rick was saying. He'd almost forgotten that very first day they'd met and how he'd launched an entire weekend's hunt of squirrels at Rick's head when the new arrival had told him about handcuffing Merle to that damned roof. The man had had the reflexes of a cat and ducked, and Shane had been on him in a heartbeat. Rick had wasted no time invading his personal space in the next instant. Kind of like he was right now.

 

"No," he denied his tone vehement. Rick slipped an arm around Daryl's waist and stepped right into him.

 

"Good. Cuz I might have had t' change my mind about all o' this alliance business."

 

Daryl turned, leaning into him. He felt like an idiot, but Rick seemed to be amused by the whole thing. Not angry. "Why's that?"

 

"I can't have my man gettin' a roving eye because someone else starts pushin' his buttons now can I?" Rick sounded a bit smug. Daryl kinda wanted to hit him. Not hard, but still.

 

Instead he scoffed. "I hate women. Well, some o' them."

 

Rick chuckled and actually hugged him, pressing his lips to Daryl's forehead. Daryl closed his eyes and just…savored it.

 

"God, get a room you guys!" Carl barked, turning and ducking back into the study in an overdramatic flail.

 

"Won't do no good," Daryl called around Rick's shoulder. "You'd hear us anyway!"

 

"Ah, Daryl! That's gross!!" Carl whined loudly from wherever he was hiding in the den. Rick's chuckle was a warm vibration against Daryl's chest and the hunter slowly looped his arms around Rick's waist.

 

"How about I help you clean these and then we can have dinner out on the patio?" Rick kissed his temple and then let him go. Daryl sighed and took half a step back, but only just.

 

After a moment he brought his eyes up to Rick's, tipping his head a bit. "Sure. What's on the menu?"

 

"Pot roast and vegetables. Beth was pissed you weren't at the dinner table. She worked hard all day and said she couldn't believe you weren't there to eat it."

 

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Women," he grumbled and Rick chuckled again, reaching out to slap Daryl's shoulder.

 

"You're tellin' me."

 

 

TBC…


End file.
